Monday, 21 October 2013
01:15:24 AM (GMT)
In the course of life we sit upon its edge
its brushed metal joining itself into a pinnacle.
A point of sharp intent so infinite only Plato's forms comprehend.
We sit there wondering: "Which way should I fall?"
To the left? The right? Tumbling into the abyss.
Do not procrastinate because it will cleave your skin in two.
Slowly at first, then in a torrent as an exponential progression
follows its furrows, its slits, into the sharpest clarity God's mind defines.
It will break skin if one dotes over the idea.
And with it, Ocham has lent me his razor.
With it, I carefully shave the barbs and tufts,
the beard, the hair; all noting an apathy.
So that I may be bald and clean.
Symmetrical like the universe provides us,
an infinite series along x and y.
Now to the matter which matters most,
to the left or the right?
Watch me fall into a pigeon hole.