The quality of an author can be seen by how they produce an ending, on this note poetry is quite easy, you start your journey, a budding author and just plant a seed, you crawl and learn to walk, say your first words and learn to whine, this organism takes root and reaches for the light, like karma, it’s self-completing, at this point, just the universe talking to itself, always waiting in the distance, the next thing, as for its use, the production of magick and alchemy, in the end, you may take what you need, or get caught up in hype and sophistry, the devil in the details and your deeds, what does it matter, sin, cos, tan, a lake that ripples, leave yourself a way out, life happens, strings simply pull, and before you know it, chains wrap around your feet, and you’re dancing, bow your head, the heavens watch, just let it go and strip, weighing your worth, balanced against the world, what’s gayer, a blade or my dick, the intricacies of language, live, laugh, love, nerdy chicks and binding mathematics, the moon watches and smiles, planets align, eternities pass, what have we gained, ask her out, maybe nothing...

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.