K Hassan
Not: The poem is under revision.
I. Beneath the Noetic Fog
I
Beneath the brown fog of a primal dawn,
Where shadows choke the spark of thought’s first scream,
Three shades, unlike Magi, seek truth through dust,
The querent’s thorn, the seer’s flame, the scroll.
So many minds, truth’s requiem crushed so many,
A cracked bell keens through nescience’s bleak null.
Elenchus, eidos shred the Real through ash,
Logos, a splinter, threads unbeing’s wail.
Doubt, vision, order writhe in Möbius scars,
The Absolute hums void in thought’s unform.
II
In dust where creeds dissolve to syllabled null,
A querent’s thorn does rend the mind’s dry veil.
The doxa bleeds, its light spills anti-time,
No dogma binds the blade of fathoming doubt.
Unthinking husks drift lost in thought’s black gyre,
Elenchus sparks the root of nescience bare.
A sibyl’s dirge resounds through shattered voids,
Each query falls, a star in reason’s chasm.
The speculum of wisdom, cracked, reflects unform,
Aporia’s maze gapes wide in thought’s grim pulse.
The civic wrath binds flesh, yet nous takes wing,
Her thorn awakes the Real through ash of mind.
III
In caves of ash where shadows haunt the soul,
A seer peers through chains of mortal clay.
Phantasms weave, men kneel to formless null,
The Eidos burns, a grail in spaceless gyre.
An Icarus unburned ascends through fog,
Her requiem of forms does split the void.
The polis hums with justice wrought in thought,
Yet blind men clutch the dust, their minds unmade.
Archetypes, shards titanic, brave the gale,
Truth, beauty, justice—fractured, yet they burn.
The Absolute, an elegy through nullity,
In flame it gleams, defying reason’s dark.
IV
Where gods dissolve to dust of ancient shrines,
A scribe inscribes her scroll on cracked dry earth.
From star to seed, from telos unto bone,
The Prime Mover’s pulse stirs the silent null.
Syllogisms carve the chaos into form,
Logos erects a maze of ordered ash.
The golden mean, a chord o’er chasms vast,
Her axioms scar the stars in now’s cracked glass.
The cosmos mourns, its requiem scratched on hide,
The Real coheres, spun out from ash and void.
The scribe’s sure hand, through fog, does chart the truth,
A mythic axis carved in thought’s unform.
V
In starless gloom where time’s ash cloaks the void,
A thorn, a flame, a scroll clash in the dust.
The querent’s doubt, the seer’s grail, the scribe’s law,
Their strife keens dirge through reason’s barren bed.
Doubt pricks the psyche, eidos lights the grail,
Logos binds dust to stars in silent might.
Aporia cracks the creeds, archetypes rise,
Syllogisms chart the void where thought lies bare.
The world, a lyre with ash-strung cords, hums null,
Its requiem spills through cracks of mortal stone.
The Absolute, a spark in thought’s unform,
No dark can dim its unworded, endless scream.
VI
I colide with the black hole, lost in time’s dimention,
My veins pulse nullity’s unworded shriek.
This tragical destiny keens through shattered voids,
Yet holds the whole of being and nonbeing.
The querent, seer, scribe shape shards of Real,
Their strife’s a requiem where unform burns.
So many minds, truth’s elegy rends the void,
Their spark unmakes the stars in anti-time.
The Absolute, unworded, shatters veil,
Its pulse screams Real beyond all speech’s end.
II. Under the Syzygy’s Ash
I
Beneath the brown fog where starless dusk holds sway,
The silted stars choke rivers of decay.
A weaver’s chord, a mystic’s star, a spear,
Seek light through ash where reason’s roots lie bare.
So many minds, light’s requiem crushed so many,
A river’s dirge keens through the cosmic null.
Logos and monad shred the Real through dust,
Ratio, a splinter, threads unbeing’s wail.
Theophany and clarity writhe in scars,
The Absolute hums void in thought’s unform.
II
From vellum’s dust where sacred words decay,
A weaver chants, her logos spans the void.
The scripture cracks, archetypes spill through fog,
Hermeneutics unlock the veiled true light.
A sibyl’s dirge resounds through shattered voids,
Her voice does wrestle faith with nous in ash.
Logos, a torch, binds flesh to starry heights,
Its requiem keens low in reason’s throat.
So many minds, creed’s elegy crushed so many,
The cosmos breathes through spans of mythic chord.
The weaver’s hand, through fog, does stitch the light,
A hymn that echoes where thought’s stones unform.
III
In dusk’s dry veil where starlight chokes on ash,
A mystic climbs, her soul sheds flesh’s husk.
The Monad, starless flame, burns boundless void,
Its Nous and Psyche spill from wounds unseen.
No shade can bind, she scales the noetic cliff,
Her requiem, unburned, does split the fog.
The One, both source and end, bleeds light through dust,
The psyche drinks the Ineffable in peace.
So many minds, void’s elegy crushed so many,
The Absolute chants hymns through reason’s throat.
In starlight’s glow, the Real defies the dark,
The mystic’s voice burns bright through thought’s unform.
IV
In ash of stars, a savant wields her spear,
Its geometric scar does cut the void.
Her axioms slash chaos, ratio guards,
She sings of order, not of gods, in dust.
The polygons to spheres, eidos meets form,
While dogma’s tide would choke her shining blade.
Her nous, a star, burns fury’s flesh to ash,
Her truth, a guide through wastes where minds unform.
So many minds, light’s requiem crushed so many,
The cosmos sharpens, edged by mythic dust.
The savant’s hand, through fog, does map the Real,
A clarity that carves through thought’s decay.
V
Through darkened rifts where time’s dust dims the light,
A chord, a star, a spear clash in the dust.
The weaver’s hymn, the mystic’s flame, the savant’s law,
Their strife keens dirge through reason’s barren bed.
Logos knots spirit, monad lights the One,
Ratio carves stars from thought’s unyielding bed.
Synthesis spans the void, ascent burns dark,
The world, a lyre with ash-strung cords, hums null.
Its requiem unveils where ruins join the sky,
Truth spills through cracks of mortal stone’s lament.
The Absolute, a spark in thought’s unform,
No dark can dim its unworded, endless scream.
VI
I colide with the black hole, lost in time’s dimention,
My bones chant anti-time’s unworded wail.
This tragical destiny wails through starless rifts,
Yet holds the whole of being and nonbeing.
The weaver, mystic, savant shape the Real,
Their strife’s a requiem where unform burns.
So many minds, light’s elegy splits the void,
Their spark unmakes the stars in spaceless gyre.
The Absolute, unworded, shatters veil,
Its pulse screams Real beyond all speech’s end.
III. In the Theogony’s Dust
I
Beneath the brown fog of a faith-torn dawn,
Where creeds dissolve to ash in thought’s decay,
A sage’s ember, friar’s hymn, rabbi’s torch,
Seek light through ash where reason’s roots lie bare.
So many minds, creed’s requiem crushed so many,
A river’s dirge keens through the cosmic null.
Quiddity, canon shred the Real through ash,
Exegesis, a splinter, threads unbeing’s wail.
The being, quest writhe in Möbius scars,
The Absolute hums void in thought’s unform.
II
In starless voids where shadows pool as ash,
A sage does kindle embers of pure being.
Quiddity splits from chaos in thought’s dust,
The Necessary grounds all kinesis still.
Metaphysics maps the boundless, mends the clay,
Her stylus sparks the nous through ruined stone.
The creeds may scorn, yet thought drifts free as air,
Being’s cracked speculum holds the One’s faint null.
So many minds, light’s requiem crushed so many,
The cosmos breathes through ontos’ mythic spark.
The sage’s hand, through fog, does kindle truth,
A light that shines where thought’s dry bones unform.
III
In faith’s cracked halls where columns lean in dust,
A friar chants, her summa carved in bone.
The creed weds ratio, Prime Mover proved,
Theonomic law binds grace to logic’s chord.
Her voice keens low through ruins to the sky,
Yet foes spurn roots, her truth a burning torch.
The common good, a rope o’er chasms deep,
Its requiem guides through thought’s unyielding fog.
So many minds, order’s elegy crushed so many,
The cosmos sings through chords of grace in ash.
The friar’s voice, through fog, does stitch the light,
A hymn that echoes where thought’s stones unform.
IV
In radiant exile, dust chokes fading stars,
A rabbi’s torch does burn through thought’s decay.
The formless One, through nous, reigns free of shape,
Allegory’s key unlocks the veiled true light.
Her light does guide through doubt’s unyielding maze,
Though zealots burn her words, her flame holds fast.
The negative way unveils the silent divine,
So many minds, truth’s requiem crushed so many.
The cosmos clears through ash by torch’s glow,
The rabbi’s hand carves Real through thought’s unform.
V
Through shattered voids where time’s ash cloaks the light,
An ember, hymn, and torch clash in the dust.
The sage’s spark, the friar’s chant, rabbi’s flame,
Their strife keens dirge through reason’s barren bed.
Quiddity grounds the chaos, canon binds,
Exegesis carves stars from thought’s dry bed.
Metaphysics spans the void, theonomy hums,
The world, a lyre with ash-strung cords, hums null.
Its requiem unveils where ruins join the sky,
Truth spills through cracks of mortal stone’s lament.
The Absolute, a spark in thought’s unform,
No dark can dim its unworded, endless scream.
VI
I colide with the black hole, lost in time’s dimention,
My blood shrieks anti-form’s unworded keening.
This tragical destiny keens through shattered voids,
Yet holds the whole of being and nonbeing.
The sage, the friar, rabbi shape the Real,
Their strife’s a requiem where unform burns.
So many minds, creed’s elegy rends the void,
Their spark unmakes the stars in spaceless gyre.
The Absolute, unworded, shatters veil,
Its pulse screams Real beyond all speech’s end.
IV. In the Modern Waste
I
Beneath the brown fog of a godless dawn,
Where idols crumble into thought’s dry ash,
A skeptic’s spark, a critic’s lens, a cry,
Seek light through ash where reason’s roots lie bare.
So many minds, doubt’s requiem crushed so many,
A river’s dirge keens through the cosmic null.
Cogito, critique shred the Real through ash,
The will, a splinter, threads unbeing’s wail.
Certitude, potency writhe in Möbius scars,
The Absolute hums void in thought’s unform.
II
In silent chambers, shadows pool as dust,
A skeptic wakes, her spark burns through the fog.
“Cogito, ergo sum,” her truth holds fast,
Though senses falter, gods deceive the mind.
Her meditations build a cosmos new,
The nous’ cracked speculum holds the self’s faint null.
The critics scorn, yet spark endures through ash,
So many minds, truth’s requiem crushed so many.
The cosmos wakes by spark’s clear fathoming light,
The skeptic’s hand does kindle Real through time.
III
In tranquil voids where time chokes on its dust,
A critic stands, her lens does bend the Real.
The spatium, tempus shape the psyche’s frame,
Deontic law bids freedom through the fog.
“Act for all,” her torch does light the maze,
Her paradigm turns shadow into light.
The foes may scorn, yet lens holds fast as star,
So many minds, order’s elegy crushed so many.
The cosmos bends through ash by lens’ clear glow,
The critic’s voice does stitch the light through time.
IV
From jagged peaks where dead gods lie in ash,
A prophet’s cry does shatter creeds apart.
The Übermensch carves void with surging will,
No truth is fixed, all values forged in dust.
Her voice, a flame, dances on chaos’ rim,
While foes clutch dogma, yet her cry holds fast.
So many minds, will’s requiem crushed so many,
The cosmos quakes through ash by fathoming spark.
The prophet’s hand, through fog, does carve the Real,
A mythic light that burns through thought’s unform.
V
In barren wastes where time’s dust shrouds the light,
A spark, a lens, a cry clash in the dust.
The skeptic’s doubt, the critic’s law, prophet’s will,
Their strife keens dirge through reason’s barren bed.
Cogito lights the psyche, shapes the void,
The will carves stars from thought’s unyielding bed.
The doubt spans dark, the reason hums through dust,
The world, a lyre with ash-strung cords, hums null.
Its requiem unveils where ruins join the sky,
Truth spills through cracks of mortal stone’s lament.
The Absolute, a spark in thought’s unform,
No dark can dim its unworded, endless scream.
VI
I colide with the black hole, lost in time’s dimention,
My flesh wails anti-form’s unworded shriek.
This tragical destiny wails through barren wastes,
Yet holds the whole of being and nonbeing.
The skeptic, critic, prophet shape the Real,
Their strife’s a requiem where unform burns.
So many minds, doubt’s elegy splits the void,
Their spark unmakes the stars in spaceless gyre.
The Absolute, unworded, shatters veil,
Its pulse screams Real beyond all speech’s end.
V. Incandescence of the Real
I
Beneath the brown fog of a primal wound,
Where void does kiss the ash of thought’s decay,
A bard’s lost verse, a seer’s dirge, a hymn,
Seek light through ash where reason’s roots lie bare.
So many minds, creation’s requiem crushed so many,
A river’s dirge keens through the cosmic null.
Poiesis, lament shred the Real through ash,
The paradox, a splinter, threads unbeing’s wail.
Creation, order writhe in Möbius scars,
The Absolute hums void in thought’s unform.
II
From chaos’ maw where stars choke on their ash,
A bard does sing, her seric verse aflame.
Her stanzas weave the nebulae for dust,
Yet chains bind light in markets’ broken stone.
The specie strangles divine sparks in fog,
Theft’s requiem keens through the reason’s throat.
No cage can hold the spark of poiesis’ flame,
So many minds, verse’s elegy crushed so many.
The cosmos wakes by bard’s clear fathoming spark,
Her hand does kindle Real through thought’s unform.
III
In night’s black jaw where ruins whisper low,
A seer’s dirge does tear the veil of ash.
Archetypes crumble, truth scars stone in dust,
Too late it grieves to save the reason’s fall.
From fanes to cinders, cries pierce silent fog,
The Idea, shard in twilight, gleams through null.
So many minds, lament’s requiem crushed so many,
The Absolute sings light through reason’s throat.
The seer’s voice, through fog, does carve the Real,
A mythic spark that burns where ruins unform.
IV
A merchant dances to aurum’s silent chant,
Her greed feeds nations blind in thought’s decay.
Coins sprout in fields through fog of chaos’ wound,
The paradox births order from the dust.
From emporia to neon’s pulsing glow,
A spectral hand weaves towers through the ash.
So many minds, greed’s requiem crushed so many,
The cosmos binds through chords of paradox.
The merchant’s hand, through fog, does weave the Real,
A mythic light that shines through thought’s unform.
V
Through spectral voids where time’s dust dims the light,
A verse, a dirge, a hymn clash in the dust.
The bard’s creation, seer’s lament, merchant’s law,
Their strife keens dirge through reason’s barren bed.
Poiesis kindles fire, lament carves lore,
The paradox weaves stars from thought’s dry bed.
Creation spans the void, order hums through dust,
The world, a lyre with ash-strung cords, hums null.
Its requiem unveils where ruins join the sky,
Truth spills through cracks of mortal stone’s lament.
The Absolute, a spark in thought’s unform,
No dark can dim its unworded, endless scream.
VI
I colide with the black hole, lost in time’s dimention,
My soul shrieks anti-time’s unworded keening.
This tragical destiny keens through spectral voids,
Yet holds the whole of being and nonbeing.
The bard, the seer, profiteer shape the Real,
Their strife’s a requiem where unform burns.
So many minds, creation’s elegy rends the void,
Their spark unmakes the stars in spaceless gyre.
The Absolute, unworded, shatters veil,
Its pulse screams Real beyond all speech’s end.
VI. In the Century’s Waste
I
Beneath the brown fog of a war-torn dawn,
Where skies choke ash in thought’s unyielding dust,
A linguist’s blade, ontologist’s call, a torch,
Seek light through ash where reason’s roots lie bare.
So many minds, strife’s requiem crushed so many,
A river’s dirge keens through the cosmic null.
Semiotics, ontos shred the Real through dust,
The ratio, a splinter, threads unbeing’s wail.
The sign, the being writhe in Möbius scars,
The Absolute hums void in thought’s unform.
II
From shadowed streets where words choke on their ash,
A linguist cuts, her blade scales logic’s cliff.
Facts bind the cosmos, signs betray the truth,
The praxis births new meaning in the fog.
Words dance in strife, a dirge through reason’s throat,
The nous and speech align in thought’s decay.
So many minds, sign’s requiem crushed so many,
The cosmos speaks through clarity in ash.
The linguist’s hand, through fog, does carve the Real,
A mythic light that shines where ruins unform.
III
In sylvan dusk where shadows pool as ash,
Ontologist’s call wakes being from the void.
Dasein asks why, a wound through thought’s unform,
The Nothing haunts, yet Being shines through dust.
Authenticity defies the dark’s cold grasp,
Her requiem names nameless truth in time.
So many minds, being’s elegy crushed so many,
The cosmos trembles, light of ontos glows.
The voice, through fog, does kindle Real’s faint spark,
A mythic truth that burns where ruins unform.
IV
A rationalist strides through ash with torch alight,
Her numbers carve the stone of reason’s truth.
Doubt cuts through dogma, ratio meets the need,
Her clarion breaks the dark in thought’s decay.
The creed’s chains snap, a star burns through the silt,
So many minds, truth’s requiem crushed so many.
The cosmos clears through ash by torch’s bright glow,
The rationalist’s hand carves Real through fog.
V
In shadowed wastes where time’s ash cloaks the light,
A blade, a call, a torch clash in the dust.
The linguist’s sign, the thinker’s quest, torch’s law,
Their strife keens dirge through reason’s barren bed.
Semiotics shape the meaning, call wakes being,
Ratio carves stars from thought’s unyielding bed.
The signs span dark, the reason hums through dust,
The world, a lyre with ash-strung cords, hums null.
Its requiem unveils where ruins join the sky,
Truth spills through cracks of mortal stone’s lament.
The Absolute, a spark in thought’s unform,
No dark can dim its unworded, endless scream.
VI
I colide with the black hole, lost in time’s dimention,
My breath wails anti-form’s unworded shriek.
This tragical destiny wails through shadowed wastes,
Yet holds the whole of being and nonbeing.
The linguist, thinker, rationalist shape the Real,
Their strife’s a requiem where unform burns.
So many minds, sign’s elegy splits the void,
Their spark unmakes the stars in spaceless gyre.
The Absolute, unworded, shatters veil,
Its pulse screams Real beyond all speech’s end.
VII. Eternal Dialectic
I
Beneath the brown fog of time’s cracked mirror,
Where nous does pierce the veil of thought’s decay,
A querent’s thorn, a critic’s lens, a blade,
Seek light through ash where reason’s roots lie bare.
So many minds, truth’s requiem crushed so many,
A river’s dirge keens through the cosmic null.
Elenchus, critique shred the Real through ash,
Semiotics, a splinter, threads unbeing’s wail.
The query, sign writhe in Möbius scars,
The Absolute hums void in thought’s unform.
II
From timeless dust where stones whisper their ruin,
A querent probes, her thorn tears doxa’s veil.
No creed can hold, elenchus cuts the root,
The speculum of wisdom cracks in null.
A sibyl’s dirge resounds through reason’s throat,
So many minds, truth’s requiem crushed so many.
The cosmos wakes by thorn’s clear fathoming spark,
The querent’s hand does kindle Real through time.
III
In tranquil voids where time chokes on its dust,
A critic stands, her lens does bend the Real.
The spatium, tempus shape the psyche’s frame,
“Act for all,” her torch lights reason’s maze.
Her paradigm turns shadow into light,
So many minds, order’s elegy crushed so many.
The cosmos bends through ash by lens’ clear glow,
The critic’s voice does stitch the light through time.
IV
From shadowed streets where words choke on their ash,
A linguist cuts, her blade scales logic’s cliff.
Signs betray truth, yet praxis shapes the Real,
Words dance in strife through reason’s unyielding throat.
So many minds, sign’s requiem crushed so many,
The cosmos speaks through clarity in ash.
The linguist’s hand, through fog, does carve the Real,
A mythic light that shines where ruins unform.
V
Through spectral rifts where time’s dust dims the light,
A thorn, a lens, a blade clash in the dust.
The querent’s doubt, the critic’s law, linguist’s sign,
Their strife keens dirge through reason’s barren bed.
Doubt pricks the psyche, critique shapes the void,
Semiotics carve stars from thought’s dry bed.
The signs span dark, the reason hums through dust,
The world, a lyre with ash-strung cords, hums null.
Its requiem unveils where ruins join the sky,
Truth spills through cracks of mortal stone’s lament.
The Absolute, a spark in thought’s unform,
No dark can dim its unworded, endless scream.
VI
We are but tiny meaniing particles,
Yet hold the whole of being and nonbeing.
I colide with the black hole, lost in time’s dimention,
My heart shrieks anti-time’s unworded keening.
The querent, critic, linguist shape the Real,
Their strife’s a requiem where unform burns.
So many minds, truth’s elegy unmakes void,
Their spark unforms the stars in spaceless gyre.
The Absolute, unworded, shatters veil,
Its pulse screams Real beyond all speech’s end.
The first revision
Beneath the Noetic Fog
Beneath the brown fog of a primal dawn,
Where shadows choke the spark of thought’s first scream,
Three shades, unlike Magi, seek truth through dust:
The querent’s thorn, the seer’s flame, the scroll.
Too many minds, truth’s requiem crushed,
A cracked bell keens through nescience’s bleak null.
Elenchus and eidos shred the Real through ash,
Logos, a splinter, threads unbeing’s wail.
Doubt, vision, order writhe in Möbius scars,
The Absolute hums void in thought’s unform.
In dust where creeds dissolve to syllabled null,
A querent’s thorn does rend the mind’s dry veil.
The doxa bleeds, its light spills anti-time;
No dogma binds the blade of fathoming doubt.
Unthinking husks drift lost in thought’s black gyre,
Elenchus sparks the root of nescience bare.
A sibyl’s dirge resounds through shattered voids,
Each query falls, a star in reason’s chasm.
The speculum of wisdom, cracked, reflects unform,
Aporia’s maze gapes wide in thought’s grim pulse.
Civic wrath binds flesh, yet nous takes wing;
Her thorn awakes the Real through ash of mind.
In caves of ash where shadows haunt the soul,
A seer peers through chains of mortal clay.
Phantasms weave, men kneel to formless null;
The Eidos burns, a grail in spaceless gyre.
An Icarus unburned ascends through fog,
Her requiem of forms does split the void.
The polis hums with justice wrought in thought,
Yet blind men clutch the dust, their minds unmade.
Archetypes, shards titanic, brave the gale—
Truth, beauty, justice—fractured, yet they burn.
The Absolute, an elegy through nullity,
In flame it gleams, defying reason’s dark.
Where gods dissolve to dust of ancient shrines,
A scribe inscribes her scroll on cracked dry earth.
From star to seed, from telos unto bone,
The Prime Mover’s pulse stirs the silent null.
Syllogisms carve the chaos into form;
Logos erects a maze of ordered ash.
The golden mean, a chord o’er chasms vast,
Her axioms scar the stars in now’s cracked glass.
The cosmos mourns, its requiem scratched on hide;
The Real coheres, spun out from ash and void.
The scribe’s sure hand, through fog, does chart the truth,
A mythic axis carved in thought’s unform.
In starless gloom where time’s ash cloaks the void,
A thorn, a flame, a scroll clash in the dust.
The querent’s doubt, the seer’s grail, the scribe’s law;
Their strife keens dirge through reason’s barren bed.
Doubt pricks the psyche, eidos lights the grail,
Logos binds dust to stars in silent might.
Aporia cracks the creeds, archetypes rise;
Syllogisms chart the void where thought lies bare.
The world, a lyre with ash-strung cords, hums null;
Its requiem spills through cracks of mortal stone.
The Absolute, a spark in thought’s unform,
No dark can dim its unworded, endless scream.
I collide with the black hole, lost in time’s dimension;
My veins pulse nullity’s unworded shriek.
This tragical destiny keens through shattered voids,
Yet holds the whole of being and nonbeing.
The querent, seer, scribe shape shards of Real;
Their strife’s a requiem where unform burns.
Minds, countless, truth’s elegy rends the void;
Their spark unmakes the stars in anti-time.
The Absolute, unworded, shatters veil;
Its pulse screams Real beyond all speech’s end.
II. Under the Syzygy’s Ash
Beneath the brown fog where starless dusk holds sway,
The silted stars choke rivers of decay.
A weaver’s chord, a mystic’s star, a spear,
Seek light through ash where reason’s roots lie bare.
Too many minds, light’s requiem crushed,
A river’s dirge keens through the cosmic null.
Logos and monad shred the Real through dust;
Ratio, a splinter, threads unbeing’s wail.
Theophany and clarity writhe in scars;
The Absolute hums void in thought’s unform.
From vellum’s dust where sacred words decay,
A weaver chants, her logos spans the void.
The scripture cracks, archetypes spill through fog;
Hermeneutics unlock the veiled true light.
A sibyl’s dirge resounds through shattered voids;
Her voice does wrestle faith with nous in ash.
Logos, a torch, binds flesh to starry heights;
Its requiem keens low in reason’s throat.
Minds, countless, creed’s elegy crushed,
The cosmos breathes through spans of mythic chord.
The weaver’s hand, through fog, does stitch the light,
A hymn that echoes where thought’s stones unform.
In dusk’s dry veil where starlight chokes on ash,
A mystic climbs, her soul sheds flesh’s husk.
The Monad, starless flame, burns boundless void;
Its Nous and Psyche spill from wounds unseen.
No shade can bind, she scales the noetic cliX;
Her requiem, unburned, does split the fog.
The One, both source and end, bleeds light through dust;
The psyche drinks the IneXable in peace.
Minds, countless, void’s elegy crushed,
The Absolute chants hymns through reason’s throat.
In starlight’s glow, the Real defies the dark;
The mystic’s voice burns bright through thought’s unform.
In ash of stars, a savant wields her spear;
Its geometric scar does cut the void.
Her axioms slash chaos, ratio guards;
She sings of order, not of gods, in dust.
The polygons to spheres, eidos meets form,
While dogma’s tide would choke her shining blade.
Her nous, a star, burns fury’s flesh to ash;
Her truth, a guide through wastes where minds unform.
Minds, countless, light’s requiem crushed,
The cosmos sharpens, edged by mythic dust.
The savant’s hand, through fog, does map the Real,
A clarity that carves through thought’s decay.
Through darkened rifts where time’s dust dims the light,
A chord, a star, a spear clash in the dust.
The weaver’s hymn, the mystic’s flame, the savant’s law;
Their strife keens dirge through reason’s barren bed.
Logos knots spirit, monad lights the One,
Ratio carves stars from thought’s unyielding bed.
Synthesis spans the void, ascent burns dark;
The world, a lyre with ash-strung cords, hums null.
Its requiem unveils where ruins join the sky;
Truth spills through cracks of mortal stone’s lament.
The Absolute, a spark in thought’s unform,
No dark can dim its unworded, endless scream.
I collide with the black hole, lost in time’s dimension;
My bones chant anti-time’s unworded wail.
This tragical destiny wails through starless rifts,
Yet holds the whole of being and nonbeing.
The weaver, mystic, savant shape the Real;
Their strife’s a requiem where unform burns.
Minds, countless, light’s elegy splits the void;
Their spark unmakes the stars in spaceless gyre.
The Absolute, unworded, shatters veil;
Its pulse screams Real beyond all speech’s end.
III. In the Theogony’s Dust
Beneath the brown fog of a faith-torn dawn,
Where creeds dissolve to ash in thought’s decay,
A sage’s ember, friar’s hymn, rabbi’s torch,
Seek light through ash where reason’s roots lie bare.
Too many minds, creed’s requiem crushed,
A river’s dirge keens through the cosmic null.
Quiddity and canon shred the Real through ash;
Exegesis, a splinter, threads unbeing’s wail.
The being, quest writhe in Möbius scars;
The Absolute hums void in thought’s unform.
In starless voids where shadows pool as ash,
A sage does kindle embers of pure being.
Quiddity splits from chaos in thought’s dust;
The Necessary grounds all kinesis still.
Metaphysics maps the boundless, mends the clay;
Her stylus sparks the nous through ruined stone.
The creeds may scorn, yet thought drifts free as air;
Being’s cracked speculum holds the One’s faint null.
Minds, countless, light’s requiem crushed,
The cosmos breathes through ontos’ mythic spark.
The sage’s hand, through fog, does kindle truth,
A light that shines where thought’s dry bones unform.
In faith’s cracked halls where columns lean in dust,
A friar chants, her summa carved in bone.
The creed weds ratio, Prime Mover proved;
Theonomic law binds grace to logic’s chord.
Her voice keens low through ruins to the sky,
Yet foes spurn roots, her truth a burning torch.
The common good, a rope o’er chasms deep;
Its requiem guides through thought’s unyielding fog.
Minds, countless, order’s elegy crushed,
The cosmos sings through chords of grace in ash.
The friar’s voice, through fog, does stitch the light,
A hymn that echoes where thought’s stones unform.
In radiant exile, dust chokes fading stars,
A rabbi’s torch does burn through thought’s decay.
The formless One, through nous, reigns free of shape;
Allegory’s key unlocks the veiled true light.
Her light does guide through doubt’s unyielding maze,
Though zealots burn her words, her flame holds fast.
The negative way unveils the silent divine;
Minds, countless, truth’s requiem crushed.
The cosmos clears through ash by torch’s glow;
The rabbi’s hand carves Real through thought’s unform.
Through shattered voids where time’s ash cloaks the light,
An ember, hymn, and torch clash in the dust.
The sage’s spark, the friar’s chant, rabbi’s flame;
Their strife keens dirge through reason’s barren bed.
Quiddity grounds the chaos, canon binds,
Exegesis carves stars from thought’s dry bed.
Metaphysics spans the void, theonomy hums;
The world, a lyre with ash-strung cords, hums null.
Its requiem unveils where ruins join the sky;
Truth spills through cracks of mortal stone’s lament.
The Absolute, a spark in thought’s unform,
No dark can dim its unworded, endless scream.
I collide with the black hole, lost in time’s dimension;
My blood shrieks anti-form’s unworded keening.
This tragical destiny keens through shattered voids,
Yet holds the whole of being and nonbeing.
The sage, the friar, rabbi shape the Real;
Their strife’s a requiem where unform burns.
Minds, countless, creed’s elegy rends the void;
Their spark unmakes the stars in spaceless gyre.
The Absolute, unworded, shatters veil;
Its pulse screams Real beyond all speech’s end.
IV. In the Modern WasteBeneath the brown fog of a godless dawn,
Where idols crumble into thought’s dry ash,
A skeptic’s spark, a critic’s lens, a cry,
Seek light through ash where reason’s roots lie bare.
Too many minds, doubt’s requiem crushed,
A river’s dirge keens through the cosmic null.
Cogito and critique shred the Real through ash;
The will, a splinter, threads unbeing’s wail.
Certitude, potency writhe in Möbius scars;
The Absolute hums void in thought’s unform.
In silent chambers, shadows pool as dust,
A skeptic wakes, her spark burns through the fog.
“Cogito, ergo sum,” her truth holds fast,
Though senses falter, gods deceive the mind.
Her meditations build a cosmos new;
The nous’ cracked speculum holds the self’s faint null.
The critics scorn, yet spark endures through ash;
Minds, countless, truth’s requiem crushed.
The cosmos wakes by spark’s clear fathoming light;
The skeptic’s hand does kindle Real through time.
In tranquil voids where time chokes on its dust,
A critic stands, her lens does bend the Real.
The spatium, tempus shape the psyche’s frame;
Deontic law bids freedom through the fog.
“Act for all,” her torch does light the maze;
Her paradigm turns shadow into light
.The foes may scorn, yet lens holds fast as star;
Minds, countless, order’s elegy crushed.
The cosmos bends through ash by lens’ clear glow;
The critic’s voice does stitch the light through time.
From jagged peaks where dead gods lie in ash,
A prophet’s cry does shatter creeds apart.
The Übermensch carves void with surging will;
No truth is fixed, all values forged in dust.
Her voice, a flame, dances on chaos’ rim,
While foes clutch dogma, yet her cry holds fast.
Minds, countless, will’s requiem crushed,
The cosmos quakes through ash by fathoming spark.
The prophet’s hand, through fog, does carve the Real,
A mythic light that burns through thought’s unform.
In barren wastes where time’s dust shrouds the light,
A spark, a lens, a cry clash in the dust.
The skeptic’s doubt, the critic’s law, prophet’s will;
Their strife keens dirge through reason’s barren bed.
Cogito lights the psyche, shapes the void,
The will carves stars from thought’s unyielding bed.
The doubt spans dark, the reason hums through dust;
The world, a lyre with ash-strung cords, hums null.
Its requiem unveils where ruins join the sky;
Truth spills through cracks of mortal stone’s lament.
The Absolute, a spark in thought’s unform,
No dark can dim its unworded, endless scream.
I collide with the black hole, lost in time’s dimension;
My flesh wails anti-form’s unworded shriek.
This tragical destiny wails through barren wastes,
Yet holds the whole of being and nonbeing.
The skeptic, critic, prophet shape the Real;
Their strife’s a requiem where unform burns.
Minds, countless, doubt’s elegy splits the void;
Their spark unmakes the stars in spaceless gyre.
The Absolute, unworded, shatters veil;
Its pulse screams Real beyond all speech’s end.
V. Incandescence of the Real
Beneath the brown fog of a primal wound,
Where void does kiss the ash of thought’s decay,
A bard’s lost verse, a seer’s dirge, a hymn,
Seek light through ash where reason’s roots lie bare.
Too many minds, creation’s requiem crushed,
A river’s dirge keens through the cosmic null.
Poiesis and lament shred the Real through ash;
The paradox, a splinter, threads unbeing’s wail.
Creation, order writhe in Möbius scars;
The Absolute hums void in thought’s unform.
From chaos’ maw where stars choke on their ash,
A bard does sing, her seric verse aflame.
Her stanzas weave the nebulae for dust,
Yet chains bind light in markets’ broken stone.
The specie strangles divine sparks in fog;
Theft’s requiem keens through reason’s throat.
No cage can hold the spark of poiesis’ flame;
Minds, countless, verse’s elegy crushed.
The cosmos wakes by bard’s clear fathoming spark;
Her hand does kindle Real through thought’s unform.
In night’s black jaw where ruins whisper low,
A seer’s dirge does tear the veil of ash.
Archetypes crumble, truth scars stone in dust;
Too late it grieves to save reason’s fall.
From fanes to cinders, cries pierce silent fog;
The Idea, shard in twilight, gleams through null.
Minds, countless, lament’s requiem crushed,
The Absolute sings light through reason’s throat.
The seer’s voice, through fog, does carve the Real,
A mythic spark that burns where ruins unform.
A merchant dances to aurum’s silent chant;
Her greed feeds nations blind in thought’s decay.
Coins sprout in fields through fog of chaos’ wound;
The paradox births order from the dust.
From emporia to neon’s pulsing glow,
A spectral hand weaves towers through the ash.
Minds, countless, greed’s requiem crushed,
The cosmos binds through chords of paradox.
The merchant’s hand, through fog, does weave the Real,
A mythic light that shines through thought’s unform.Through spectral voids where time’s dust dims the light,
A verse, a dirge, a hymn clash in the dust.
The bard’s creation, seer’s lament, merchant’s law;
Their strife keens dirge through reason’s barren bed.
Poiesis kindles fire, lament carves lore,
The paradox weaves stars from thought’s dry bed.
Creation spans the void, order hums through dust;
The world, a lyre with ash-strung cords, hums null.
Its requiem unveils where ruins join the sky;
Truth spills through cracks of mortal stone’s lament.
The Absolute, a spark in thought’s unform,
No dark can dim its unworded, endless scream.
I collide with the black hole, lost in time’s dimension;
My soul shrieks anti-time’s unworded keening.
This tragical destiny keens through spectral voids,
Yet holds the whole of being and nonbeing.
The bard, the seer, profiteer shape the Real;
Their strife’s a requiem where unform burns.
Minds, countless, creation’s elegy rends the void;
Their spark unmakes the stars in spaceless gyre.
The Absolute, unworded, shatters veil;
Its pulse screams Real beyond all speech’s end.
VI. In the Century’s Waste
Beneath the brown fog of a war-torn dawn,
Where skies choke ash in thought’s unyielding dust,
A linguist’s blade, ontologist’s call, a torch,
Seek light through ash where reason’s roots lie bare.
Too many minds, strife’s requiem crushed,
A river’s dirge keens through the cosmic null.
Semiotics and ontos shred the Real through dust;
The ratio, a splinter, threads unbeing’s wail.
The sign, the being writhe in Möbius scars;
The Absolute hums void in thought’s unform.
From shadowed streets where words choke on their ash,
A linguist cuts, her blade scales logic’s cliX.
Facts bind the cosmos, signs betray the truth;
The praxis births new meaning in the fog.
Words dance in strife, a dirge through reason’s throat;
The nous and speech align in thought’s decay.
Minds, countless, sign’s requiem crushed,
The cosmos speaks through clarity in ash.
The linguist’s hand, through fog, does carve the Real,
A mythic light that shines where ruins unform.
In sylvan dusk where shadows pool as ash,
Ontologist’s call wakes being from the void.
Dasein asks why, a wound through thought’s unform;
The Nothing haunts, yet Being shines through dust.
Authenticity defies the dark’s cold grasp;
Her requiem names nameless truth in time.
Minds, countless, being’s elegy crushed,
The cosmos trembles, light of ontos glows.
The voice, through fog, does kindle Real’s faint spark,
A mythic truth that burns where ruins unform.
A rationalist strides through ash with torch alight;
Her numbers carve the stone of reason’s truth.
Doubt cuts through dogma, ratio meets the need;
Her clarion breaks the dark in thought’s decay.
The creed’s chains snap, a star burns through the silt;
Minds, countless, truth’s requiem crushed.
The cosmos clears through ash by torch’s bright glow;
The rationalist’s hand carves Real through fog.
In shadowed wastes where time’s ash cloaks the light,
A blade, a call, a torch clash in the dust.
The linguist’s sign, the thinker’s quest, torch’s law;
Their strife keens dirge through reason’s barren bed.
Semiotics shape the meaning, call wakes being,
Ratio carves stars from thought’s unyielding bed.
The signs span dark, the reason hums through dust;
The world, a lyre with ash-strung cords, hums null.
Its requiem unveils where ruins join the sky;
Truth spills through cracks of mortal stone’s lament.
The Absolute, a spark in thought’s unform,
No dark can dim its unworded, endless scream.
I collide with the black hole, lost in time’s dimension;
My breath wails anti-form’s unworded shriek.
This tragical destiny wails through shadowed wastes,
Yet holds the whole of being and nonbeing.
The linguist, thinker, rationalist shape the Real;
Their strife’s a requiem where unform burns.
Minds, countless, sign’s elegy splits the void;
Their spark unmakes the stars in spaceless gyre.
The Absolute, unworded, shatters veil;
Its pulse screams Real beyond all speech’s end.
VII. Eternal Dialectic
Beneath the brown fog of time’s cracked mirror,
Where nous does pierce the veil of thought’s decay,
A querent’s thorn, a critic’s lens, a blade,
Seek light through ash where reason’s roots lie bare.
Too many minds, truth’s requiem crushed,
A river’s dirge keens through the cosmic null.
Elenchus and critique shred the Real through ash;
Semiotics, a splinter, threads unbeing’s wail.
The query, sign writhe in Möbius scars;
The Absolute hums void in thought’s unform.
From timeless dust where stones whisper their ruin,
A querent probes, her thorn tears doxa’s veil.
No creed can hold, elenchus cuts the root;
The speculum of wisdom cracks in null.
A sibyl’s dirge resounds through reason’s throat;
Minds, countless, truth’s requiem crushed.
The cosmos wakes by thorn’s clear fathoming spark;
The querent’s hand does kindle Real through time.
In tranquil voids where time chokes on its dust,
A critic stands, her lens does bend the Real.
The spatium, tempus shape the psyche’s frame;
“Act for all,” her torch lights reason’s maze.
Her paradigm turns shadow into light;
Minds, countless, order’s elegy crushed.
The cosmos bends through ash by lens’ clear glow;
The critic’s voice does stitch the light through time.
From shadowed streets where words choke on their ash,
A linguist cuts, her blade scales logic’s cliX.
Signs betray truth, yet praxis shapes the Real;
Words dance in strife through reason’s unyielding throat.
Minds, countless, sign’s requiem crushed,
The cosmos speaks through clarity in ash.
The linguist’s hand, through fog, does carve the Real,
A mythic light that shines where ruins unform.
Through spectral rifts where time’s dust dims the light,
A thorn, a lens, a blade clash in the dust.
The querent’s doubt, the critic’s law, linguist’s sign;
Their strife keens dirge through reason’s barren bed.
Doubt pricks the psyche, critique shapes the void,
Semiotics carve stars from thought’s dry bed.
The signs span dark, the reason hums through dust;
The world, a lyre with ash-strung cords, hums null.
Its requiem unveils where ruins join the sky;
Truth spills through cracks of mortal stone’s lament.
The Absolute, a spark in thought’s unform,
No dark can dim its unworded, endless scream.
We are but tiny meaning particles,
Yet hold the whole of being and nonbeing.
I collide with the black hole, lost in time’s dimension;
My heart shrieks anti-time’s unworded keening.
The querent, critic, linguist shape the Real;
Their strife’s a requiem where unform burns.
Minds, countless, truth’s elegy unmakes void;
Their spark unforms the stars in spaceless gyre.
The Absolute, unworded, shatters veil;
Its pulse screams Real beyond all speech’s end.
