The world has crowned you with the phrase

‘industrial unit’, and despite the economic

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

surround, you strive to grow into

the term ‘philopoet’. In this struggle to

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

be free, you repeat the words to yourself,

“don’t let the intellect bully the heart.”>>>>>>>>

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

It is clear that she has nurtured numbers,

and you have preferred imagination,

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

all this time, and will never regret it.

She will never appreciate that it takes bird

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

aesthetics to sanctify the light, though she

never noticed the light of her noticing to begin

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

with. It is, after all,

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

the case, that we are using words to absorb

the severe angles of our sacrosanct madness,

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

not to mention our nether-space visions that

shuffle into the haunting tense.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

We are using words as nether-space conduits through

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

which we cause to fortify the god metaphor with

linguistic spells of lucid somethingness.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

We are mischief in the Nietzscharium, and

she is the reason for our semantic word harvest,

in the first place.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

‘She’ is the world, and ‘you’ are you.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Suddenly, the conundrum breaks into it’s

mathematical parts, causing stare-downs

with the Fibonacci entry points into

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

all abstract semantic buzz.  Instead of

closure, it all ends with urgency.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>