"Blue of dawn, a rousing lullaby to dying night..."
------------Magna Graecia, 493 B.C.
Number's impossible, a limitation taught by mortality.
Hearts drift in Poincare's Cloud. No cause for distress.
Silent as a fetus drifting in the Uteran Sea,
a Universe's Hum enters me like mother's voice
shakes the soft bark inside her.
Bells ring and beauteous plenitude seduces.
The Golden Thread, pulled from Pythagoras'
thigh, is buried by waves. We touch all things.
Blue is a milepost beyond number. Her eyes in the
dying light speak with a clarity unequaled by song.
Relinquish faith in number.
We number song and
play contrapuntal.
Song and war timely twins,
but the march ends in silence.
Past number and sky,
teach the ear to hear
evocative tones
of immortal soul.
beans rest in peace!
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