Boxy tinkering again,
To make a tactile seat,
For all trascendant whims
Twice married to machine.

An open letter from my world,
Running on the sliver of a cube,
Encased in all accreted cunning,
Of so many overclocked minds,
And likewise it shall mount in years,
With each footprint of my thought that I would share.

Nature's muse that rides upon the winds,
In fuller brightness overwhelming sight,
Drapes red tooth and claw in white,
Brings forth rain to wash the sullied field,
Ascendant and ascending in enfolded layers,
Beyond itself to place its hand amongst the stars.

Encouraged by the tested saints,
I hear their prayers,
I hear their faith,
Among your prized bride they sit,
You love their self offerings,
You smile upon their celebrations.