Strange Days
Oppugnant and invert,
are the faces of consciousness,
so systematically permuted,
are the intergalactic fences.
When talking to nature,
walking the trails of great explorers,
while taking a troll around,
and submerging in those dances.
Distinct is the face of nature,
For the man, machine and transients,
A play it is, of the heavenly pieces,
of perfect music, what are the chances?
The musings of nature, so calm, quiet, divine,
An art is it all about, a collection of strange instances.
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