Play
Of Three
In the beginning
Line met line A perfect angle
But missing space
Called to space In search of
The
missing other
In dissonant harmony
Of broken glass Angles became Triangles
In tumbler glass
Ice cubes sang Triangles begat Triangles
From
Simple Base
Line met line
At perfect angle Fear fancied forgetful
Yet
Fore Knowing
Line never separated
From base made With perfect angle
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