Wax-Based Ailerons

They say that the riverbed is the birthplace
of civilisation; (oh, how far we’ve come).
Unchanging the sun bids farewell as our pupils dilate further,
we look upwards stuck in shoeboxes
and other temporal shelters in the bosom of the desert.

Knowledge of Aquila and Heracles herald of obsession; oh
indeed, so far we’ve come; Flowers destroyed in casual action,
(but there’s nothing wrong with that!)
and wax havens become catacombs, tortuous recessions
of purest, white abodes. Oh, how far they’ve gone.

These are the times we take flight.

To Balance Against a Feather

(This is our philosophy reimagined.)

Life has the lion’s share of pleasures,
these agitations tied non-linear (logarithmic?)
portrayed crudely through mismanaged flux,
That of disposition, and callous idiosyncrasies,
Chemical enigmatic (current flow: automatic)

Natural progression (count: 1, 2, 3)
Fulfil the blessings of a meta-familiar mind.
Restriction falls like a snake on a garden;
And with it falls the burden of life. (rest upon your shoulders)
(count: 35) and eyes reveal seven geometric
confinements, restriction falls as a threat
(now follow) flow stunted at best.

(The rest is unknown.)