For some sets,
it is emptiness
that makes them whole.
The bounding matter
is twisted, turned
bent between two
competing sides.
Meaning flows from
the interface
between the two.
The line between all and nothing
is thin as a laser-level line
as firm as Cantor's dust
as solid as serpienski's gasket
as clear as the absolute length of the shoreline
as bounded as the shell of a cloud.
That's all you can know about it.
That's all you need to know about it, except--
the line between all and nothing
is the only line.
Everything sits on one side
or the other.
And closer to the boundary
is closer to the heart of all.
