By misty tracks and mountain falls,
Deep valleys are obscuring in their veil,
But I see ever one who calls
To shepherd boys, the fattened, strong and pale,
And there unfolds a silent fact,
This Cupid's mock of hidden face,
To live by faith and swiftly act,
As this near kingdom's palaces.

The eve outside through open glass,
Casts light that's strangely blue,
A brightness that is not true bright,
That collapses into evening shadow,
That seems to dwell in the gaping crevasse,
Left over as the sky rolls day to night.

Orchestrating a chiptune symphony,
Cueing eager silicon to hum,
I tinker in the plain text,
Seeking out the playfulness in all the noise.

Tinkering with nuts and bolts,
And slotting screws into hollowed out holes,
And flinging tape round plastic parts,
Recording lengths of sloping sides,
Talking physics, maths and tech,
Not in too much depth I stress,
But still very interesting nonetheless.