A motionless iron will
To weave a silken ship
That sails straight down from the bottom
That senseless, ice hot void
Devoid of fate or choice
Leading forward, to the rear
A lack of means and ends
No dead lines nor live dots
Just a still, full, hollow emptiness
Abhorred by nature
Abjured by culture
A repelled, absorbent void
From ever and for an instant
The original, all new void
The one that's been and is about to begin
All around, and nowhere, void
So I shall keep expanding not to fill it
As to avoid it from unnecesarily becoming
Something different
