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TO THE G R E A T C I R C L E OF N O T H I N G When the i AM THAT i AMmade nothing and rested, which rest it certainly deserved, night now accompanied day, and man had his friend in the absence of the woman. Let there be shadow! Human thinking broke out. And the universal egg rose, empty, pale, chill and not yet heavy with matter, full of unweighable mist, in his hand. Take the numerical zero, the sphere with nothing in it: it has to be seen, if you have to seeit, standing. Since the wild animal's back now is your shoulder, and since the miracle of not-being is finished, start then, poet, a song at the edge of it all to death, to silence, and to what does not return. [155] ...

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