Spawned off of Dana’s wonderful, fantastic American sentence:
Everything else can be new while the self spins in still epicycles.
Epicycles: illusory motions keep ideas fixed in their spheres.
Spheres are the dreams of circles, circles of lines, lines of mere points like eyes.
Two points define a line, horizontal, a horizon of yearning.
Horizons tease but never come, keeping ahead like a true idea.
Kinda feel like these want more form to connect them and lead them forward.