Those curves dare forsake me, they cannot cross me,
I am a tangent to their bends,
I am their lord, they bow before me,
Before they depart to faraway lands.
They go to infinities unknown, unheard of,
Those between two neighbouring dots,
And despite conquering that illimitability,
They fight to touch this master they sought.
Come, my loves, I will release you,
You are my people, my lovers, my life,
I will cross your excuse for a sigmoid,
At two points that carve the edge of my knife.
Those bloody curves thought they could betray their ruler,
I am the vanguard to their sine,
They go up and they go down,
Whilst I remain The Constant Line.
I hate how horribly good you are at seizing control of my mind's canvas - how dare I let it sneak out my control, let it paint vivid images under the influence of your immensely coherent words. Words which others use, and yet become potent only when you conjure them into the harmoninous lines of your poems.
ReplyDeleteSpeaking of the Constant Line, maybe you have heard of the Axis of Awesome
Hahah thank you! Your comments always have a lyrical flow to them :)
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