another time, inhabiting the spectral splendour of mission control, nocturnal sounds of strange beasts clamouring from their resting places, old bones creak, skeleton cabinet murmur, the rubick cube of mystery night as the moon calls dawn it's ancient tide. i wander the darkness, illuminated by some cold fire between my eyes, the central nervous system operating inter- dimensional. cosmic eye, perception of patterns upon patters, star maps hidden in star charts, multiverse within the universe, all embedded within and without. one step forwards, any direction is pointless, we are lost in deception. we deceive ourselves until we believe in the truth. 
here the wand is waved, spells cast, a maze of thought bubbles float away, some burst open, some catch the breeze, some just sink without trace, some go and evolve into great ambitions and forms, islands in the fabric of the world. 
science fiction writers produce ideas in narratives, the atomic bomb was an idea, satellites were an idea, submarines, helicopters everything starts as an idea. they go outwards into the ether, and some are plucked into reality. how does this happen, magickal theory suggests it's in manifestation and  invocation. 
i've been wondering about this, minds linked by intention but unable to know this, the ultimate detachment to result, detached by time and space. the sigil is encoded into a novel or drawing and expunged into the universe later plucked into a receptive mind and actualised by the time that mind exists in. this would conform to non locality and entanglement.