I wrought the nets that cage the finflicks of strange attractors,
incite the end of all scattered planets, fireflung into frost:
this rime that rims the outer worlds
owes all care to all my computation; the more bodies I add the better
though always it lacks neatly-nailed resolution.
The bounds to every problem last a star's lifetime.
Once in quickflicker kindness I might be inclined to exchange my eccentricity,
be governed in slow tides:
gravity's rule, stretched branch-wide, encompasses all my arguments—
No. Better, to watch all the worlds burn
sent slow into the sun:
there is such glory in every grain of darkness.