A silvery form approaches the viewer, but then recedes once again, an incoporeal idea floating amongst both sharp and undefined orbs. Its sharpest points are illuminated by an obviously artificial light, and the rays attempt and fail to light other locations in the mist, fizzling out into the grainy blurs. The image is also very wide and very shallow at the same time: a candid view of the scene, cut for the movie theater. The image is a flash in the frypan, with little to see beyond what is in front of you.

The circle is the most well-established symbol in human existence. It is unity, and interlocking it is fertility. It also possesses divinity and closure and a naturally-occuring dominance of all its own. Life is a circle, in a way. We rise from nonexistence and then sink once more into it. It is our obligation to show our true colors to the rest of humanity. One must rise up from mediocrity of ordinary life and create, lest they go back exactly to where they came: nothingness.

Like the figure, one must dash fully into their dreams, complete their goals, unify people, leave a mark on our species, even if it has to be an heir who learns more from you than you could learn through your own experiences. Without that legacy, there is no illumination. You cannot tap into the incoporeal mass' secrets and intricacies beyond the shallow forced perspective unless you let your potential flourish.

Like mythology, the idea above has been passed down over generations of equally shallow men. Whether it can be applied in pieces to your own life or not is your decision. I do not suggest turning it into your creed.

And that is this piece. It is a myth with merit, and like a myth, it encourages more questions than it can answer.