syadwad
Of whatever was concrete, and is amusing now, I look at my convictions and not break in a giggle, yet. Markov chains, chained in reverse, modded logic, inverted, sometimes. constellations, regressions, divining, grappling, some rigour I manifest, maybe. bounced patterns, reflected light, scraps of noumenon, I bite and taste, I think. hazy mirrors, I break and see, one bright piece, elegant and nice, remains? Aristotle's cave, shadows on the wall, gods and demons, I draw them all, blindly. the sibyl saw, and lied to self, and believed herself, in divine truth. I walk on water, and fly in the air, terra firma, under my foot, today. games of the mind, as holes in smoke, pictures of the lens, and crumbs of light, fleeting. I recline and soak, into the tides of time, imagining a maze, and a shining path, to truth.
