A vision of the structured world

Displayed on my tongue

A call to cohere

My life as a song

This form is a dream

As my instincts tell me

That all has been won

Creation sings along, the virtue is amongst

Compliancy and serenity take root beyond the Sun

This is what the mustard seed must have done

As this sign had been present all along

Etched in Spirit, now awakened

Blared in heretical tongues