But Maker not so humble,
With which shall fall to crumble,
And be ought to start with flesh,
His sand that forms the mesh,

Casts him away distant and free,
Breathes life anew ere long he flee,
Hears his name for first ere forget,
Lasts while but changed lest in regret,

Whence learns to walk, learns to talk,
Hence yearns to bond, bears to sulk,
This life a spiked drink to drink
Where but ne walks towards brink,

Fibonacci being

We’re walking from not far our place,
Suddenly and stopped to wall we find,
There to stare for seconds as few as us,
To part hands, we’ll depart for now;
I’ll go this way, and you the other,
We’ll draw a path that will lead us here,
We will look yonder to the path ahead,
Now I see the road that once unclear,
How soon it became clear to me to walk;
While my dearest friend, now she walks,
Slowly and begun to slowly stumble here,
Walks now, so casual; slowly, she’s there,


Since realising that it was possible,
I only heard the outcome to be impossible,
From what we understand all days are weeks,
The weeks are therefore seconds which pass,
Silently amassing their comfort proud passing,
Sought the recognition of the Universe thereof,
While running in circles could I not enforce,