library of babylon

i have acquired a collection of things i keep folded up, hidden in cases and envelopes. jiplock baggies. a vast network of precise distances. a labyrinth of neural pathways. i have categories, types, hues, spins, overlap. an organizational system of things i know and things i don't. i am creating an army. a Foundation. angstroms and angstroms of current amounting to the weight of about one paper clip. the weight of the internet. an endless expanse. my system is combinatorial, like the Library of Babylon. and as any geometric entity, its growth starts from naught but lays its leave across the floor in a progression of staggering quantity until its layering saturates the earth. he left me here. pushed my face into it until i collapsed, like cards, into yet another layer of moss. and now i have categories. filing shelves, labeled boxes ("progression", "emptiness", "things to look at"). the steps are clearer along these innumerable corridors. this is that which i need and that for which i have been thirsting. this battle. my army anticipates. battalions named "forgotten places". "ordered sets". "buried objects". "music in a warm darkness". ready for this civil war. i am terrified.