Wednesday, August 26, 2015

The Geometrical Fairyland

My soul is the condition
Of no volume, infinite
Density. It knows nothing

Of any event inside
Itself. It eats everything
Outside itself and swallows.

An ant describes a picnic
Table. Oh, the difference
To me. Nothing gained, nothing

Simplified, information
Remains countably the same.
The black shield, the centaur world.

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