those synchronous firsts
then syncretic seconds
that don't quite
live up to those precious trysts
do evolving stars rate
revolving amongst themselves
an evolutionary order
of synchronicity
God's mighty finger
marring and marking
such a wretched universe
what a creative vendetta
displayed as light and life
like a bestial mural
from Dante's twisting mind
maybe quested firsts
are only wistful seconds
a tryst at second best
some blissful performance
manipulated through time
like a questful wormhole
weaving relentless sense
into incessant strands
and other constant paste
some caste of spiritual order
founded on what is true and good
fathoms of extruded existence
crossing rude time and denuded space
into ordeals of sacrifice
and existential delight
every thing in its sacred place
every thing that God deems
good and firstly right
those diminutive seconds
mirroring those glorious firsts
satisfying endearing soul
quenching searing thirst
where is reason
without rhyme

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