As the indivisible withers into fragments,
And the eternal conserves itself,
Me and you are born, and captured
Within a cylinder, along its long axis;
Condensation proceeds,
Like wheels of prose through poetry.
Each orb illuminates itself,
Diminishing the source bit by bit
Thus setting up divine oscillations.
Doubters amuse themselves as thinkers
And simply miss
That the eternal is not what they disproved
But the One who sits calmly behind
In the fixed period of change and illusion.
The signature, although, is a bit smaller
Than man's ego - that extracts power spectrums
We arrive close, and in plain sight go back
To dig yet another cave, for civilization.
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