Hyperbolic parabolas
show routes from trusty dreams.
Grasp the nettle,
touch down on a cloud,
hear the rhythm of trouble,
say it all out loud
for soon the fabulous branches
of this soil that each must nail
will enter, blazing glory,
destroying searing fading scars
of those too weak and poor and frail
whose forgotten tribulations
will propel them to the stars.
