From Moksha Smith: Agni's Warrior-Sageby Antonio de Nicolas

He had been told that God was thought, so he stopped the rhythm of the sun, God, moon, stars, wife, children, flowers, grass and lined them in his head with the perfect symmetry of names in a vacuum of human flesh nailed to the Cross of Time.

chasing only the movement of his own thoughts, an expert in the control of life's movements, of the unguarded passion, of the weak smile that would have forced him to come tumbling down from the lofty heights of his mountain to become momentarily depressed at having to cope with a world of human flesh.

The man became all left brain

He stopped the sun, moon, God, stars, wife, children, flowers, grass from their own movement and pinned them up at the centers of his Euclidian walls in an effort to control the rhythm of any movement other than his thoughts.

The world stopped in the heavens, in the sky, at home securely hanging like paper on the walls from his interior neon light, a moth mesmerized by the shining of thought alone with no human gestures left but to sit in his armchair and watch the trophies his thought had shot in the struggle to survive a life born in the womb of a library by the incest of two thoughts.

The philosopher sat for so long resting  on his thoughts that while all the world rose up by the path of moonrays his body became a stain in the armchair's cloth.