These units are all alike, spherical and absolutely simple in construction. Though they are the basis of all matter, they are not themselves matter; they are not blocks but bubbles. They do not resemble bubbles floating in the air, which consist of a thin film of water separating the air within them from the air outside, so that the film has both an outer and an inner surface. Their analogy is rather with the bubbles that we see rising in water, before they reach the surface, bubbles which may be said to have only one surface--that of the water which is pushed back by the contained air. Just as such bubbles are not water, but are precisely the spots from which water is absent, so these units are not koilon, but the absence of koilon--the only spots where it is not--specks of nothingness floating in it, so to speak, for the interior of these space-bubbles is an absolute void to the highest power of vision that we can turn upon them. That is the startling, well-nigh incredible, fact. Matter is nothingness, the space obtained by pressing back an infinitely dense substance; Fohat "digs holes in space" of a verity, and the holes are the airy nothingnesses, the bubbles, of which "solid" universes are built. What are they, then, these bubbles, or rather, what is their content, the force which can blow bubbles in a substance of infinite density? The ancients called that force "the Breath," a graphic symbol, which seems to imply that they who used it had seen the kosmic process, had seen the LOGOS when He breathed into the "waters of space," and made the bubbles which build universes. Scientists may call this "Force" by what names they will--names are nothing; to us, Theosophists, it is the Breath of the LOGOS, we know not whether of the LOGOS of this solar system or of a yet mightier Being; the latter would seem the more likely, since in the above-quoted occult treatise all visible suns are said to have this as their substance. The Breath of the LOGOS, then, is the force which fills these spaces; His the force which holds them open against the tremendous pressure of the koilon; they are full of His Life, of Himself, and everything we call matter, on however high or low a plane, is instinct with divinity; these units of force, of life, the bricks with which He builds His universe, are His very life scattered through space; truly is it written: "I established this universe with a portion of myself." And when He draws in His breath, the waters of space will close in again, and the universe will have disappeared. It is only a breath.