Volute

dedicated to the lukewarm

Dedicated to the lukewarm

I verily believe
you are a volute,
convoluted in a sense,
otherwise you are incensed
with a sense of precedence,
but what mere mediocrity
do you stem your roots within?
Cause the long tendrils of life
tickle the suns father,
the earth's mother
and our predecessor's soul.
Tepidity is vile in a sense
hypnotic, fog like and dense.
We are meant to be burning beacons,
the inextinguishable flames
combined to scorch safety nets
away into night's wet eye