A Furnace Grim — Kosmogonic


I describe but never quite feel,

Cocooned, inured to pure reveal,

Buried, layers down, intractable,

Inoculated, reality non-contractable

From this position of attrition,

I mould and scrape a feeble rendition

Of the revelation denied us

By machinery on the jagged cusp

Of improbability and despair,

Created by no-one, from nowhere

Out of the mind of infinite nothing


via A Furnace Grim — Kosmogonic