Balance, Repetition

Composition, mirrors

Most of all the world is a place

Where parts of wholes are described

Within an overarching paradigm of clarity

And accuracy

The context of which makes possible

An underlying sense of the way it all fits together

Despite our collective tendency not to

Conceive of it as such

But then again

The world without end

Is a place where souls are combined

But with an overbearing feeling of disparity

Disorderliness

To ignore it is impossible

Without getting oneself

Into all kinds of trouble

Despite one’s best intentions

Not to get tangled with it so much

And meanwhile the statues are bleeding green

And others are saying things

Much better than we ever could

As the quiet becomes suddenly verbose

And the hail is heralding the size of nickels

And the street corners are gnashing together

Like gears inside the head

Of some omniscient engineer

And downward flows the garnered wisdom

That has never died

When we finally opened the box

We couldn’t find any rules

Our heads were reeling with a glut of possibilities

Contingencies

But with an ever increasing faith

We decided to just go ahead and ignore them

Despite tremendous pressure to capitulate and fade

So instead we went ahead

To fabricate a dialogue

Of unstable elements

And modicums

And particles with non-zero total strangeness

For brief moments which amount

To nothing more than tiny fragments of a finger snap

And meanwhile we’re furiously sleeping green

And the map has started tearing along its creases due to overuse

When in reality it’s never needed folds

And the air’s withholding the sound

Of its wellspring

And our heads are approaching a density

Reminiscent of the infinite connectivity of

The center of the sun

And therein lies the garnered wisdom

That has never died

Expectation leads to disappointment

If you don’t expect something big, huge,

And exciting, then usually

Uh

I don’t know, it’s not as, yeah