Death is a virtue, blessing, a motive within motion of art.
Engendering constant searching through forms that dissipate yet impart,
Evoked and astute-
reasons failing to combine into fate.
Aligning the transfer between local points in the world of this space,
like a sheen of time which shall fall to sundered form.
Yet once born
she will glean our hearts in a witness as we mourn:
our wasted find... which abhors you...
-traced from all credulity faced-
pulled upon the line leading towards more young sundered creatures...
To see your face...