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TrajectoryLaunched from the silo of the womb,Controlled by initial guidance, everyone'sAbandoned to fly ballistic - we assumeA calculus of fate with course corrections.Since every worldly force evolves a form,A parabola describes our invariantResultant path, compulsion to performThe Now as the asymptote at a moment -Our trajectory approaching infinity.Engorgéd youth, ascend in expectation –Collapse in age, secrete a meager droplet.Buffeted by chance and choice, the gravityOf death, despite intense determination,Again will kill our hopes to rise to orbit.
StratigraphyA layered section through the tell of the mind,To sort the strata of a buried past.The broken walls of old defenses bindUs in a dungcairn we will not outlast.Unearth the psychic potsherds, sleepless nightsOf votive offerings in the caves of fleece.The glowing rubble of futile dreams, insightsFrom artifacts that promise endless peace.Tell us about the man who left the palaceAnd its smoky light, who sought the wayTo learn about himself, impetuousTo regain his vanished past without delay.The cryptic sequences inscribed in ruinsPortend what he must learn to read as runes.