think of the axe,
As it tears through a log,
Shattering the core
Of hundreds of years
Broken bare splintered
Ready to burn.
Iron steel
Dense matter
Forged in flames
Made from the heart
Of the tree
As it had died
Buried in time
Unearthed to repeat
All this making / unmaking.
What does it mean?
What secrets does the process
reveal,
What lonely atoms
Lost souls roaming the
Idea deterministic reality machine.
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