There is a centre, and it has to hold,
There is a wave coming in.
What if the wave washes over me?
What will become of my superpose, then?
‘Cause I can no longer hold, the strings of truth.
The truth, does it have a centre?
Or does the lava melt them away?
Them, the slender, congruous ellipses, that hold my existence still.
On them, I can change my worlds, while being alive in just one,
I can be this and I can be that,
I can be there, if Here they set fire to my lines.
Does my truth give me two wings or does it clip them to the sky?
What if I could swim entire seas,
What if I could reach the very core?
But what if the core too is melting away,
‘Cause truth, can no longer hold?
I need to live double, on a single elliptical battle.
I wish I could slip through time,
I wish I could multiply,
I wish I could jump down a hole,
I wish they could no longer roar,
I wish I could watch this
From a distance, somewhere far away,
Where the skin does not cut, burn, drown or destroy,
Where Time freezes right away.
Will these lines guide me, will these particles survive, so that I reach my superpose?
So that I live through centre and truth galore,
So that I can slip through my rabbit-hole,
To reach my space to fly,
In my multi-versal sky?