I entered through a white door to find myself in a familiar room. The room had four walls, as did the entrance. It was eight o'clock in the evening. I parted the drapes so that I could imagine myself being outside. Inside and outside never seemed as different to me as they did to others. But it is responsible to be outside, so I will pretend to be outside. I was always held inside of something. Never in, never out, always in between the hands of Time and the feet of Space. Those hands could only carry so much until they made it to Heaven. Those feet could only plunge so deep into the waters. I watched some minutes pass by on a digital clock. What an absurd thought that I am progressing at the mere sight of these shifting shapes! And the thought that I can tell that a minute has passed through the changing of a shape. And that I am certain that only one minute has passed after all these different shapes have changed form. And I even know the value of the shapes! These shapes mean more than shapes.
I encountered the beast when I was in the room. Me and the beast encountered each other daily. I walked across the room to find the beast sleeping, and stroked my arm across its body. A particular sadness toppled over me. The beast seemed subordinate to me when it was asleep, but when it was awake I became very helpless. I know that I can make the beast sleep or awaken, so it is within my control to will either one of these, but when I choose the latter it controls me. It controls me every time.
The only thing that can go beyond this room are these prayers. The prayers which flow from the mind and to God. I doubt both this mind and this God. Where is the floor?