Geometric shapes
Forged
Language
Pummelled & beaten
Silences
Whispered over the heads of corn
Take me there again
To where the light of time is lifted
Away from the lonely
Where what is maybe mine is gifted
Local
Somehow global
Revolving doors
Revolve
Noises
Shout across the crowded room
Let me escape
For certain as a polygon would
Eventually as only
A once regular theorem could
