Thought is as the spinning drum
That registers but nought and one
In black and white, pixel or none
The smear, the blur, the truth ne'er won
So said a cog who felt within
His heart the folly of the spin.
Then a carriage of the train
Smoothly pulled this keen refrain:-
Though the dials be multiplied
And the answer farther spied
Wisdom fails by heart's ignition
But one cog beyond cognition
Thus the driver sought to steer
Bound by logic of the railed
Yet by points perception clear
Only smaller circles trailed
Off the track, along a siding,
All the while the truth was hiding.
REJ:- Da iawn, Idris. Yes. Only a siding is a track, isn't it? What? Mainlining?! Yes I can believe that you diamorphinous brobdingnagian dragonfly-dreaming dimwit! etc.