Has the raucous broth of
mad existence
in the twinkle ruin
of your perception?

Has the incense of repetition
shoal the antipodes of speech
in the colliding spiral
of absurdity?

Has the impervious rant
emerging like a Zen of clouds
immolate round and sound
as reason of the ephemeral?

Has the curve of light
lost in mind
like the rolling dimension
of unknowingness?

Answer me!