In passing moments of the day,
All manner of those homely hums,
Intrude upon the fabric of the mind,
Becoming all the static of its wires,
Decaying into shattered thoughts,
They are too fast, too low, too wide,
Too sad but through them is a sort,
Of tempering the heart.

Unorthodox algebra, quite did you say?
The symbols that I've know,
Are different but the same,
Struck out from shows,
My methods without legs lie lame,
I see! Just wait! and give me time,
I'll find upon the rhyme a game,
And in the game a dashing rhyme,
To give me legs to rule and reign,
Algebra unorthodox but delightful I do say.

Seconds waving by my shins I stand,
Surrounded by some clockwork legions,
Ordered beauty emergent in the uniform reeds,
And the passing time seems ever more masterfully constructed and composed,
If only chaos did not overun my shadows...
Shattered dreamer,
We do not dance in common fields,
You stand unsettled bursting through the seams of time,
You strike at chords too ancient for a tale,
The likes of which my dearest dreams hold not a candle,
Be humble,
Behemoth of the timeless sea,
Be still,
Your finitudes lie veiled beneath your gaze,
Begone,
You know not that which you lust to shatter.