I scratch the neon paper with thoughts in my mind-
The way you scathed laboured wood under dim candle light.
Clueless to my aptitude the falsity of what is new
What I know is- You, not you but your marvelous craft-
papyrus paper and pen, quill to bound book.

What is there in esence today,
We look and,
Then what,
Does it mean,
Lovely, or is it,
Dearly in the eye,
Feudal in a time, frame,
Leveling the inertia,
From the point of potential,
Gravitational on kinetics,
What then,
Laizze Fairre they say,
But does it,
Teach, Learn,
Empart,
Aimless swords,
Countless pens, painted,
Business, booms,
On life, death,
Satirically speaking,
New, because,
Boring is the Old.