Of abysmal length, my dart of curiosity licks away thirsty with assurance, hungry for factual feedback Of random moments, the claws of predestination - a mirage perhaps, has pricked and bored unjustly into this rind whose offence was being birthed Such enigmatic sphere, dense with dearth of answers, answers that gallop upon hooves of logicality I run daily, from fanatics, smart follies, their person is a combo of stinking adjectives, ailing verbs and spineless adverbs Boxed in this cubicle of uncertainty, debilitating my darting quest With a bleeding heart, how far can one go? In mysterious linen, distinctive human issues clad before me. Of love, of life. Of destiny, of life span, of culture, of truth, of our rituals, of ... Perhaps I'll be devoid of foggy self assertions When hounds drag the fluffy skies with ravaging falcons If you can, ply scrupulously through this jungle of bleeding letters and find me transfixed at the precipice But if I take a plunge before you get here, then ...