The world’s
breath exhaled
An
exhaustion that pulled you to life
Breaking the
dawn
Out of your
tension
A patient
stroking of the drive
A straight
line to focus on
To carry you
through the smoke
And the
mirrors that showed you
Your own
infinitesimal cave
Of granular detail
A dark want
of perfect order
That not a
soul could entertain
A communist
insurrection
Of the
creative spirit
That drew
gray lines
Across the
black and white
And built
uniform blocs
Of
efficiencies
A dark hole in
the essence of logic
Through
dreams of intellectual filters
To improve
the human experience
Like a red
balloon let to the sky
Vast and
blue like the sea
Into which
we are thrown
Best bury
your critique
In the clean
appearance of things
And guide
your direction
Through the
filtering hole of Reason
To the high
level of thought
That barred
your execution
Lest you
slip into the rational abyss
Buried in
the minutia
By the
passing of time
Always
always slipping away
A chill down
your spine
Would inspire
your relevance
No matter
how acute your passion
Your emotion
is simply not
Important
More a mere
reflection of your loss
Of the
logical flow of things
In the
interest of perfection
Your grip
severed your ties
And you were
nothing but free
At the world’s
weary eyes
Your ideal a
mere predilection
Of your
divination of Reason
Born from
the absence of your soul
In the
theory of incompleteness
Within and
without withal cast
Into the Sea
Where the
old gods were a-swimmin’
In the
doubtful nature
Of your
existence
Jason Greendyk, www.jasongreendyk.com
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