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.