Pressure

At a point of unbearable pressure, the intellect overheated and shattered - much like a sculpture not hollowed before firing, its prior shape lost forever. After a long, painful interlude sifting through the fragments and a sort of functional braindeath, the largest shards were salvaged, scored, slipped, and reassembled. A new form emerged, one largely unrecognizable from its original state, full of a nebulous emptiness where a fixed density formerly reigned. Somewhere between a two- & three-dimensional collage of past & present, no longer the white-hot ball of nickel it once was, now uncertain, fragile - an empty, imperfect sphere hastily glued back together out of fear and primal necessity.  Yet underneath that cracked and broken facade, something profoundly new began to grow - every edge, kissed with light, penumbra brimming, yearning, illumined deep within...