From Moksha Smith: Agni's Warrior-Sageby Antonio de Nicolas

He had been told

that God was thought,

so he stopped the rhythm of the sun,

God, moon, stars, wife,

children, flowers, grass

and lined them in his head

with the perfect symmetry of names

in a vacuum of human flesh

nailed to the Cross of Time.

chasing only the movement

of his own thoughts,

an expert in the control

of life's movements,

of the unguarded passion,

of the weak smile

that would have forced him

to come tumbling down

from the lofty heights

of his mountain

to become momentarily depressed

at having to cope

with a world of human flesh.

The man became all left brain

He stopped the sun,

moon, God, stars, wife,

children, flowers, grass

from their own movement

and pinned them up

at the centers of his Euclidian walls

in an effort to control

the rhythm of any movement

other than his thoughts.

The world stopped in the heavens,

in the sky, at home

securely hanging

like paper on the walls

from his interior neon light,

a moth mesmerized by the shining

of thought alone

with no human gestures left

but to sit in his armchair

and watch the trophies

his thought had shot

in the struggle to survive

a life born in the womb

of a library

by the incest of two thoughts.

The philosopher sat for so long

resting  on his thoughts

that while all the world

rose up by the path of moonrays

his body became a stain

in the armchair's cloth.