| 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 entangled | 
| 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 become suddenly verbose. | 
| and the hail is heralding the size of nickels, | 
| and the street corners are gnashing together | 
| like the gears inside the head | 
| of some omniscient engineer, | 
| and downward flows the garnered wisdom | 
| that has never died. | 
| when finally we opened the box | 
| we couldn’t find any rules. | 
| our heads were reeling with a glut of possibilities, | 
| contingencies, | 
| but with ever increasing faith | 
| we decided to go ahead and just ignore them | 
| despite tremendous pressure | 
| to capitulate and fade. | 
| so instead we went ahead | 
| to fabricate a catalog | 
| 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 a twelve-string, | 
| 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, | 
| usually uh, I don’t know, | 
| it’s just not as, yeah. |