Perhaps strange, perhaps vague…
How things can break and almost mend themselves,
A little strange.
How we succeed ourselves.
Pioneers barely dominate infinitely
As Parthenon becomes a Laurel and laurels become….
nothing is immutable.
On the verge of concluding a pointlessness-
Staring at the face of mutability
At the fading morning glory
Who can claim forever?
A blood clot, sperm drop, speck of dust, lick of sweat
As if it ever ceased.
Decisive beginnings ooze transient trails.
Genesis reeks of conclusion
Drips with uncertainty…
Even reflections are not super-imposable
Yet we speak of cores