The Iteration of Z, as it echoes in us all

Crows land, early afternoon
Footprints appear
soon, clear
Fractals rearing
in every smile or frown
a track for tears

We age within the M-set
cracks set back smiling lad
Layers of the sad, the glad and the mad
clad our very being

What we are seeing
is the layering of time
Entwining, wizened vine
whose fruit is rot
Convoluted plot to blot out
forgotten failures

Balance between predetermination and chance
deals glancing blow to fanciful notions
that to grow old is to slow and fade
as we dissipate slowly t’wards the infinite

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