at work that won't muster.
Such halls exist where it all rests, immaculate.
Preserved and Dustless,
These points formed me and you.
My paper keeps on folding
Along my World-Line
A fortune sphere exponential,
Possibilities limited, only by light
as snow climbs back to Heaven.
Proving Tachyons . . .
Lovers who never met, laughed and talked,
The meetings did take place,
Only I was not there.
