"A million, mewling lines,
soul-forged designs as old as time.
Pushing the limits of his mind -
but there's always another hill to climb."

---

This is the poem I hesitated last night to work on/post. There's a lot in the subconscious of this poem that I feel that I should explain, and simultaneously believe that would be cheating my readers of their chance to... reverberate with my words. That's probably extremely pretentious of me to think that people WILL have such a reaction, but I prefer to err on the side of caution than ruin a single reader's experience...

So, with great reluctance, I'm going to leave it alone. I don't want to work on this anymore, and if it's not good enough to stand up on it's own, without my explanation, then it deserves to remain in the shadows. I know I basically used a lot of words in this description to say nothing, but I didn't just want to leave this poem ENTIRELY without context.

Thanks for reading. Comments/critique are welcome as always. I have something in the works that may show up over the course of the next few days... once I can figure out how I want to do it. It's more a logistical problem than a literary one, at least. Something that's been a LONG time in the making. Til then.