Thoughts on a note

Thoughts on a Note 

The hands seem disturbingly mundane without a rein

Because the mud drains the adhesion entailed

Houston we have a problem

This addiction to diction outline all the faults in the vault

Creaking an alchemist board

Until it yields a pattern that patters into all firewalls 

One of them is a realm where ingenuity meets semantic ambiguity

That's why thoughts on a note decode

And when a rhapsode recites it, it echoes

And the pen obstruct the construct of minuscule dots 

That were all poured in a capsule

Taking thrice a day with a story told and retold

Around the burning coal 

Which hinges on a core amidst breathing souls intertwined 

The contours trickles through the webs of my mind

If only I could turn water into wine

In order to turn what the world made immaterial corporeal

Because nobody wants to lose the use of their hands