Struck at form you reign--
days orchestrated a destiny...
the image-less precognition
of light and dark.
A self-generated whole, an
energetic rogue...of what
shall have dominion.
All will remain passable,
imbibe what's to be expected
of momentum--the obscuring
verisimilitude has made the
mind's acquaintance.
Twilight Zones are as strangers
to the mind, filtered out with
unblinking exactitude--to regard
them is to engage the borderline
whence they came.
Days come whence they came--
yet, we must not think so.
Struck at form you reign--
over destiny...only when its
shadow be withdrawn to its
selfsame form.