Epigram ‘n Aphorism Samwiches

The Equatorial Outcome

Jotting
         numbers
                   unequated,
                             yet subscribed
                                       to define,
                             refine an ordinary,
                   imperfect world
         spinning circular, linear
throughout time --
codified by some, where I

fear the sun but
cherish the stars.

Columns and margins' scrawling combine
until I
cannot cosine,
compare to words angling away
from my mind.
I'll not find
equatorial sunshine sublime.

A burning horizon nears,
my only true outcome.

Solve for x, at least?


5.12.21

another poem off the cuff...