Truth told be : Afraid am I
It all a rather bizarre Thing, rather strange
Why worry - Why torture oneself So
So full of worry What is the Mind doing
How has it come to (This) Why has it come to (This)
Why What How The Eternal questions of the Mind
Why this How that From what
..., so useless this enforced Form
Rather empty; attempting to define the Fluid

Give Edges to a Ball Give Edges to the Earth
Idealize the Real Why not Realize the Ideal
I torture turn and churn Squaring and managing
No Soul to be found by that Only Breath
Breath and Hot air

Why so inauthentic Why not be a Poet not a poet
Why quality what quality How quality
Is it Ideal or Real nor any?

Vanitas vanitatum et omnia vanitas
- Thou(gh) Art?