To no-where I go in the nothing I feel, Spinning like an old coin or a wayward wheel. I tumble as I twist, throwing myself on through the falling mist of the new red dawn. Battered as I bounce, I trip on with zeal; Spiralling, Spiralling, Spiralling on, till I’m spiralled from anything I thought to be real. Till concrete crumbles and the green grass is gone.
Here, I stand, in those bizarre acres of mine. Where geometry fails in the plans I design. Where math melts like memories of my boyhood, and the laws of motion ******* to be understood. Come falling upwards, plummeting to the sunshine. We’ll swing and we’ll sway on the old wise wood of trees that hang from the skies like a shrine to nature in reverse, and truths in falsehood.