website
Once again I set out to carve,
A place upon the face of information,
Falling with a vigour as if to starve,
The mind of gaps amidst the murmuration,
To find a dusty cleft to call a far off home,
To set a window looking to the waterfall,
Call out to weary travellers now to roam,
From storefronts to my garden wall,
The rock is thick. I too see why,
So few have ventured carving out a place,
This side of all the petty information lusting for our time.
Giving motion to the site,
A sprinkle of a spin right there,
A flashing red on green on white,
And jumping symbols at the briefest glare.
We're in at last, the tiny world unfurled,
My machinations lie at its true root,
The buzz and clinks, the quieted chatter,
The story told in scarcely alphabets,
I'll donne the builders hat and climb in bricks,
I'll make an edifice to show the world.
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.
I find myself again a tinkerer,
Too tucked and pulled within such tight machines,
Forget each dragging worlds beyond,
The clock is dead beneath the clanks.
It's getting comfy now,
This place of mine,
So full of colours and at last,
The walls are hung upon my art,
My words have found it,
A place within this boisterous bundle of wires.
Another day so spent on tinkering with bliss,
On forming from the edge of sight,
Forms unmeasured rising into light,
Such things inspiring - being inspired,
My very colours call to me to act,
This is some wonky part of art,
This is some muddled way of play,
This is quite something to be deep within.