Twirling about where speed tenfold turns thirty, forty,
Sixty seconds to less than a minute
When splat, barely soft, tympanum shakes
Begging, swirling in voids, of mass beyond gravity
Of time, with barely a spine to, hold
Greying, uncertain, static shock,
As we are attracted to the most
Unknown, mysterious allusions constantly evading
For we are right only one past 99.99% of curves
Space falling to shreds in vortexes, light cannot
Escape the dark side, beading itself on,
Strands connecting, looping, whooping
Through scented staircases in dimensions
Invisible.
Fathom?