My reality bends, but doesn't break . . .
            Oh! how I love to watch her shake.
I love to watch her struggle,
              as she fights not to crumble
                      Into the void that she creates.

All the while, she's subtracting,
                   Extending, then retracting . . .
She functions as a prism,
         But it's not light that she's refracting.

She exhales in waves of reverb and vibrating oscillation,
        She creates all that imitates
        In the shadow of divinity,
                                                As she balances the equation.

Giving birth to the chaos, she finds replication in order . . .
As the random escapes, and attempts to distort her.
She's graceful and strong, yet falls apart when out of step.
Never stopping or regaining a second,
Nor a chance to catch her breath.
So in awe we observe her,
The birth-giver to grace, in a dance of life and death.