In trying to pick out a pattern in chaos,
I found neither symmetry nor direction.
It just was- and that's all it needed to be,
Unadulterated.
Speculation free.

No rhythm, no purpose, no agenda.
Just pure chaotic goodness straight from a sourceless chasm

To even attempt to decipher the endless web of desires,
of sorrows, or fleeting wonder- is to attempt to unravel the spider's web by speaking it. It is to sing down the moon.
It cannot be done- but there is no harm in trying.