Just. Like. Imperatives.
Laws must be word, and matter, dissolvable
Causally grounding knowledge writ girth
Streets must be wide, how they bend, reliable
All who quarter arriving here first
Rain must be clear, sun clouded, untraceable
Draught defusing on index to thirst
And with these precepts dear,
We’ll mure measured tiers
That no one need premise a notion of worth.
Pure must be logic, our reasons, impassable
Headroom subsuming good humors and mirth
Which buries them here,
Without blink, nod, or fear,
That no ends, by all means, surmise our own birth.
Copyright Keli Birchfield 2015