Thus we begin,
Great,
The inaugural seven,
Instinctive as can be,
It was the first, as the first of many others,
Observed almost perpetually.
Then comes the unison,
With a few juvenile off-keys,
Leading away to delivery of epiphany,
Be it long, be it brief,
Mostly long with a mind as deep,
Inadequate mimicry ensued,
Then resignation over dim, or non-existent, recollection,
With time in hand, upright monolithic,
Like the Terracotta of old,
Pondering whether a poem be told,
Meandering minds, Maker forgive,
Au contraire,
Not think of, but about thee,
But how is it decreed?
Great,
Scrawled in mind, with nothing on hand,
Hands are locked in procedural motion.
Praise is only for you,
Shall I accredit for this reverie too?
Great,
Indict me as many would,
Or inspired from whence I stood.
Great,
But can they not claim I think the same?
Or is ‘same’ staticity of the mind and thus, definite? For
shame!
Great,
To reflect and ponder,
A deed to derive castigation and slander.
Great...
Thus we begin again.
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