Only asked in reply to a curious question of why.
The wash does seem so empty,
the world pooled effect,
so fixed in showing how it is,
the anger is not knowing.
A sculpture or a pyramid,
the broken mountain met,
the film of which is missing,
stolen by a threat?
The impression of the Moon,
a crescent issued proof,
the sun will shine shadowed behind,
I guess it's living clues.
Wars upon the walk of stars,
turning sheets instead of bars,
a bottle-neck in life so far,
the choke discovers the chimneys fluke,
symmetry points at truth.
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