By the Sound of the Rule

By the sound of the rule, I find nothing to comfort me.

In the second hand a tremble unlike any patterns unfold.

A final world of awe, breaking all silence between the radial sun and the distance of the cornfields.

The sky is only but an ocean.

Gleaming rockets flare into the sea's endless grip.

Farmer sweats, wiping his brow and dreaming of somewhere.

The circumference of all stars, the numbers of a board of genius.

On a hill of desperate discovery, in a field of swirling currents, within a confined space- all infinity releases.

Farmer goes to speak but his time is short.

Now exhausted, he passes down the legacy of his father's wisdom.

It is rejected by the collective decisions of monarchs, and the meadow becomes only a myth.