Crack in the ark

Everything he knew fell by the wayside. He proceeded to engulf himself within the austere gates of solemnity, hoping to submit to the blind dictation of inconsummate shrieks. Suddenly the gates opened, and he was greeted by the fluffy entrails of non-gravité, even though he had fallen into autumn inside his head. He sprang about as he walked, but with jerkless knee. Stirring the whispers as he did, he lent his ears to the sweet music of solitude, adding a note with his waving hand as he blew the trumphet of his rebirth. The monotonous ticktock was reset, and he moved its hands with the beat of his rhythm. His past was shut behind him, except for those brief moments of kaleidoscope when the former struck him with bolts of lightening, as if it cut though an imaginary key-hole. Now he restrained himself with no other soul, but he lived for every spirit, announcing his blitzkrieg on the whole as he did. Under seizure, he commanded a caesura with homo natura. All his ukases were now offset by a duration of silence...