Down through the ages –visible to all–What concrescence turns the timid into tough
Drives disruptive chaos into solid steadiness
Leads anomaly to form, form to anomaly?
The end of all worlds appears
At the foot of each bed
Theory towels that wrap magnificent bodies
Are sieved through touch and taste
And leave a residue of meaning
Or are worthless
Singularities redirect all, awake or asleep,
To an awkward finality of infinite body
Delusions of history –of smidgens and epochs–
Unravel within a guitar’s strings and a voice—
Dragging rugs from under troubled feet
Leading to unfolded paths
To seek love in the ever-normal
Is to find no love at all
Honest prayers, if said well,
Through the long night
–If torn from the chest–
Constructs authentic
Gives the heart-needed
A new improved structure
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