Finally we get to that part where things start

To simmer up not due to climate or pent up

Gases and last gasp chances as time passes

But mainly because there is never a pause

Between effect and cause being the same

Old game in every refrain and too much pain

To go around again in that kinetic machine

That infuses the dream with perpetual steam

Bubbling and boiling and troubling and roiling

Generating the pressure that goes on forever

Bringing the heat from the street like a beat

Relentlessly repetitively driving rhythms

Cleaving the walls as they fall into schisms

Tensions extended alight and unmended

Yet balanced some way in a stable array

Yielding positive sparks well after darkness

All falling up stairs despite the cheap glares

Questioning why all the smoldering of bolder

Visions as embers subside aside cold shoulders

While everything dies well before it gets older

Wondering thundering appeals to make deals

That slip through fingers of those dead ringers

For the muses misplaced resigned in disgrace

Only to face back into a crowd when allowed

Brief moments of memorable temporal bliss

One kiss of a death never ceasing to amaze

Setting reason ablaze stoking fires within

The web of fine tethers where all are kin

—

NOTE: Jots and spots and knots from real time, recalling that when things fall apart sometimes it lets more light shine through…