ever stop to see
how the day can be
painted an estranged shade
like obscure fractal divisions
composed of lost pieces
of Akashic data
and somehow everything changes
because nothing ever changes
and how much astute piety can be retained
when the entirety has been scrutinized
will it put the demons to rest
or guilt to the test
as you pass through the veil
appearing
ever so frail
in the eyes of
the macrocosm