It's a bird! It's a plane! No. It's a JRF flying away.

If you will dance with me to the rhythm of reason
humbly we can turn the waltz
Toward a life of liberation,
meaning and inspired action.

{ A meaningless exercise suddenly ended
leaves a sour aftertaste of disappointment
and that all too familiar sense of despair;
It claims 'tshall measure my life in shaded bubbles;
If worthy thee, oh unworthy me, oh unworthy me! }

In my world, space is not made, 'tis claimed
On worth of plausibility, coherence, consistency.
We stand on shoulders
of folk who are boulders
who stand on other shoulders.
Shoulders not of people, but -
Ideas - and their kith and kin.

There is the infinite continuum;
(In principle inconceivable that we know all that be,
and therefore 'tis infinite.)
For us, unlimited, though perchance warped,
connections forming small blots of packed waves,
Where, to be is to be connected
(not its esse, no; but merely the way we operate).

We are eagles who leave our trails,
(and this, perchance, we have not yet with contend)
For what effects our flights prime.

But here we are, the whole world open,
Ease yourself, ankle squint,
and then,
take flight, take flight, take flight...