This tangled net of vertices and lines
Conveys an occult message to require
A realignment into new confines
Within which time and space perform their gyre.
This shadow of a shadow of a form
Proffers a path where mind can only squirm
And twist and brace itself against the norm
In hopes to bring maturity to term.
Once concept frees itself to search again
The underpinnings of all structured thought,
The mind can soar out from its cosmic pen
Wherein reason remains enjailed and caught.
This egg of rectilinearity
Is pregnant with omniscient clarity.