Let me to the Incarnate Mother must
The Eldest of Sudden Truth understand
One Day, which shaky Candles will delust
The Object's Manner of a Blackened Hand
I deliver Forceps to which Heart grows
What Heart's own Attrition dares to admit
The Mum of Three Promised Knights beknows
The Receipt of such Devotion permits
Verily, Age is a Factorless Sum,
Easily enclayed by a Donkey's Foot
And when the Festival lays down its Lump
It locked the Door to keep the Sorrowful.
Now, Elder-Mum, try to lift your Wise Head
This Extended Son, wishes your Love be fed.

Each one matters,
but which count?
tis in this our beings are found,

Each day we make thousands of them,
but we only remember a few,
the rest follow the lead of the crew,

One after the other they seem to ball,
but lacking specific order,
nature without regard for how small,

Marilu can remember them all,
but what proof hath she brought?
outside of the hex's superior recall,

She might argue decisiveness,
but not within her realm,
a sanity lost in sticky eidetic tales,

So many facts in her head,
but what is the main entry?
system's require a classification method,

A selective bias helps with her choice,
but what is her reward?
Either maximize payoff or minimize toil.