tragic delirium gives way to long postponed joy.
it comes slowly to the boy that his handcuffed jumping beans could have long since been set loose.
but this revelation brings no external sign, and he sighs, like before,
though the cause for this sighing is now different, perhaps.

for what is change?
all is equal, all feelings are finally equivalent,
and though mountains and feelings erode into dust,
the state of existence doesn't change.

and so the boy recedes, past his foibles and past the foibles of others,
past the tactile sensations he experiences,
past the blood coursing in his veins,
past the neurons firing in his brain the allow to even think such thought,
for these things do not define him.

but then, what does? nothing.
his denominator is zero, as all denominators are,
and as all domination and denominations come to after a while.

and since these things pass,
as does existence,
the boy is totally free despite material roadblocks,
and he continues to sit, quite quietly, but secure,
in the knowledge and feeling of no expectation.