To pull within the tides wake.
To hear thrashing of thunder above.
As the rain, thick and concrete,
dribbles down one’s face.
Continuous and overwhelming.
But is it truly random?
Isn’t it actually finite?
Just another algorithm created by the mind?
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Author:
Butter :3 (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: August 16th, 2026 06:19
- Comment from author about the poem: Day 7, You know what they say about entropy :3
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 3
- Users favorite of this poem: Tristan Robert Lange
Offline)
Comments1
Butter, this has a wonderfully unsettled energy to it. The weather, the motion, the pressure...everything feels chaotic, but the poem keeps asking whether that chaos is really as random as it appears. Strong piece, my friend. 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
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