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If gravitas is the point you buckle where is the desideration for the fall,
And if the apple becomes your slumber are you spread in endless halls;
Nobody knows until it happens, when the resistance fuses its abortum
The pressure cannot take the strain, but when it does
Newton's turn Pascals and what was done was done in vain.
The mealy mouth critics comment on their festoon
The casters take off their wheels, and all is left is the naked man
Parading his vitals like a deposit of an insult
Before the lamb could be sacrificed before the ram.
David Levitas
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