a mathematical composition of music 
fails without that certain intuition 
which is but tuition to an institute 
of ignorance and mock comprehension
 
as equations themselves fluctuate
in the steady-state of now and now
and here again an atomic clockwork 
splits to splice a shell entwined
 
as ideals undo the dream of day 
as dreams cull this winter night
within dim fabrications of data
 
as rose bulbs in cold compost
compose ariettas less of thorn
for blood than ice for summer