so whose pocket
does the universe fold up and fit into?
it could be yours,
if the music hits you at just the right moment
eternalizing the moment in which you were Ready...
you'll know because
a piece of that infinity will break off
and collide with your brain,
reminding you it's really yours--
no strings attached:
this is a steady stream of gravity,
winding through fields of Paradoxes,
rolling into a world...
where that's what they call
daisies.
i hesitate to face the music,
to me it seems locked up, strange
cold, exclusive, mocking
this can't be the one
that fits in my pocket...
but what's reaching me from across the rift,
over fields of Paradox-daisies
yes, up through the sewer drains!
and straight to my brain?
Aquarius, with her basket of water from Anywhere
taking me just a little closer with every drop
stretching the limit, the border, the shape
illusion soup
now the f- f- fold is ... easy
did i stutter?
answer that one til your savior comes with a sickle,
a novelty, or (dare i say it?)
an improvement.
and you were so sure it wasn't me.
an ineffable kernel belied your definition.
you are formlessness pulling on the fabric just so,
giving rise to form
drinking foreign waters
and not at all considering every possible dimension!
