as if there are never more storms, or other calms
as if each step is not a thing to pivot upon and draw from
as if a large enough finity, is not itself an infinity

furthermore, we are naked to better devour sensoria
moreover, insignifigance itself poignantly perfumed
what is more, love acknowledges death and supercedes

some of which or all of which or none of which
may be true at any given time in any given weather
or not or partially or indefinitely, perpetually

you would not believe what i truly believe, i think
the stars are beyond my concern but they drive me
to create the terror that is immaculate kindness

and my wings are hands and my blades are eyes
and my tongue is mind and my thought is rain