petaled river, where are the rooms for you to breathe? sheathed in words ardored with swell of sword, step into the horror of now, where dream is companion no more, wed as it is to rule & measure - petaled river, with song as blood, swell of root & hum of bond, we are one - the clay of belonging is born to the sun of now, where dream is wed to flow of new, to the round of moon, its ooze & leisure -
Can you transcribe a cruel word enough times such that in the limit it belongs? could You rope in a cry with limbs dexterous enough to think it a laugh? when do the limits Cross, foretelling beginnings of duality? how can you persist in ones and zeroes forever?