Hewn in the dark

From one to many, in an instant.
A beginning of elegance, perhaps.
Or continuance of an infinite
forever unknown sans frame.

The masses hurdling across obsidian felt.
No pockets, no score, no destine marked
for the sum or its parts. Just a-go.
A complex display setting eddys aboil.

A mix of all things for the sake of none
but structure heired — bound and boundless.

From chaos, trenchant function bornes form,
and productively repeats in relative pertuity.

Growing, permeating — or however context is lain
on that which was not but now firmly is.
Melded to the fabric of a continuity
inevitable once it was, and while it remains.

Afixed, above all else, to the fuel innate,
in sacrifice or for love, or both,
if serving well the selfish means
that push toward epic heights.

Swirls in stone and bone for futures to hold, as memory,
as burdens, unmoored from their originality, and time.

Beautiful, no doubt, when beauty bestows meaning
inherent to the truth of its kayotic evolving medium.

Together billowing beyond a singuli foregone,
scraying to stay the ledger of motion and therm.
An ever-morphing complement of hues and blends
that blush the face of an edgeless orb worn.

A run of endless toil to prize more the same,
as remains possible in a limitless formulae,
ever-creasing the fold between context and fore,
as is now, and is remembered, in gaps among solids.

Encoded, recoiled, and rekindled as practiced,
ever learned, in the damp and in the dark.