"they" always remember starting early,
reading aged 4, writing aged 5,
transcripts of encoded spy messages aged 6,
but not one of them remembers
being aged 4, or turning into a mozart;
odd to vainly boast about such early
inquisitiveness perfected to a profession,
without actually engaging in one;
i don't remember when anything happened,
i remember that it did happen,
and was like a perfect mathematics dressed
casual in almost anything equation,
like π, extending to fit a circle's geometry
with an infinite decimal shopping-list
(3.14159... fidgety when approaching
the ~∞ encircling like a strapped to a dying-battery
clock hand of seconds twitching between
some second, 8 or 9)... with an infinite decimal
stress of coercion, giving the 2-dimensional
representation of communication was always
doomed to be strained... strained for paradoxes...
man's entire paragraph of excavated knowledge
was recorded in two dimensions,
not one, not three...
the kings of experience levitate in knowledge
not being encoded in two dimensions, with silence
the vehicle of a loss of conscience, the perfect science,
all a matter of α, rather than μ (the mediator),
in consecration of relinquished gifts via ω (the realist)
of the awaited grave, from erectile phallus
to an equally erectile crux.