Science tells us that matter, light, sound, may all be forms of the same electromagnetic energy vibrating at one speed or another through time. We, our emotions, thoughts, even our dreams can be measured in wavelengths and rhythms.
Of what, then, are we made? Is each but an empty easel awaiting the medium of time and place to become a something, a self, from one moment to the next? An axis within and around which whole worlds of perception, imagination, and thought revolve?
Every symbol ever voiced or smudged on a cave wall, painted from a spectrum, played on a scale, written as a hieroglyph, typeset, typewritten or computer-driven; are these but part of some social chemistry urging us on to re-manifest life and memory from generation to generation?
Or are these things but a means to no end? A way to explore for the sake of exploring the very nature of beingness itself. Perhaps all these scales and cadences of solidness, of sound, of light, simply require the awareness of a beholder to be real at all. Or perhaps it is all but the Cinema of the Mind.