I never understood it, esoteric rites, to assume
without asphalt.
So neat inside, a theorem inside, giving life its
meaning: so delicate inside.
To tolerate existence, an existential charm, reality
is wheezing; silent indifference, realizing it, at restraints to concede to it.
Walking around it. Evading it.
It becomes a cliff, sorely disgusted, pushed to a
line,
and it shifts.
So much debris, rich consciousness, to see many of a degree—
Restored, left in confusion.
To include a man, neither good nor decent, most fierce.
