A poem, for a change of pace.

Beauty wilts and love will flucture what remains is hidden structure blushing primes sly chiding knots intertwine betwixt our thoughts creation lives to create chipping from the ob’lisk slate talk amoungst our little selves speculating filling shelves search we will and see we’ll not blindness is our earthly lot but the voice of the void is vast notice it through the nets we cast