The unconscious never lies.
It only tries to figure out
what once was in.
Now it’s a sine or co-sine at best.
Let the numbers rest.
No judgement of the hour.
Just accidents of power.
What direction must we take.
The wind for god’s sake!
In it we are kind.
A science of the mind
pushed on by algorithms.
Such beauty in the rhythms.
No decisions in the make.
What should we expect?
A mount with no cliff.
A sea that doesn’t end
shored up in a bend.
Appearances out of nowhere.
Just languages adrift.
Let’s hold together
In the spirit of the weather.
If felt to bend we will.
But something makes me shake.
All being’s in the nil.
Deliver it as a bill.