it's true what we say when we don't say a thing
it's true what we do when we lie here
we turn and we turn toward a sussurant tock
in winterfields of chrysalide winding

it's true what we knew when we knew not a thing
it's true we'll forget this forgetting
of unharnessable prayer of filmic incongruity
we bubble in the roar of rising

insignificant
within an insignificance of things
temporarilly counterdesigned