.A THEORY FOR CHAOS.
mathematical precision;
lacking the perfection to execute
a perfect incision, a formula
and yet simply a decision.
written upon the skies into dust,
wavelengths depleating distance;
it must draw closer, into
the hands i choose to trust.
spoken into silences, words too pure
to embrace the air, enter the ears.
it instills a cure, a wordplay of
tragedy; endeavours i fail to endure.
this is my theory for chaos.















Comments
written upon the skies into dust,
wavelengths depleating distance;
it must draw closer, into
the hands i choose to trust.
that was just amazing.
--
Am I the star beneath the stairs?
Am I a ghost upon the stage?
Am I your anything?
"depleating"? minus the 'a'?
nice descriptive poem, very succinct, despite the rhyme being a little old and ordinary. thats pretty much the only thing which sticks out a little in this poem.
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