and a man

if we start from the top it makes sense:
right, wrong, the way to go, and the not,
but then I see from far below me bereft
parts of me ailing for attention and touch,
so I provoked instead my good heart’s heat
and found that all around it was wound
and inside of me, the answer, the sound.
but in one direction without end—
how far reaching that what we send
neglects something of a friend, and so:
in truth, what is true is just cohesive
and lends to any notion of pattern
a path, and a precise one, decisive:
laying down on good authority a goal

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