I’m a construct; piece-wise and bilateral
Anointed by half pieces parted from wise souls
Who sojourned to two-states America in uncertainty
Bore fruit, and I’m part of the four.
As fourth, I am the neoteny of the family
I’m this fleshy symmetry
Can barely keep track
Must remind, crafted in his Immortal Geometry.
So I must grin and bear it
It goes so fast, I remember bits and pieces
Far from wise, before neo-belief
I match left and right but inwardly, I’m not so wisely pieced.
It didn’t take long, my journey, though certainly short, by peaceable ambulation
From where I’ve been, people I’ve met with this inner asymmetry
I want to fix them; with my black hammer and white nail
With my grey, pulpy, heart.
Yet I don’t have the means.
Now I just don’t have it, I need to amble over with mine
My beloved two wise figures of geometry, please understand this
There’s more than the framer of hand or eye, our hearts form imperfect amalgam.