and somewhere, lines were drawn.
and gosh, all these litanies, these songs.
these lines, poor things
with no one to quiet their misgivings
with no one to teach them the poky ways of bending some.
no one to say in verse of gauged symmetry
that horizons aren't lines
and that as they lie, sponge-like, they sublime
so there's no each or other.
and after all
there's no need to be so straight about things.