Glimpsed feverishly, dehydrated and all
Soarin’, raisin’ heaven while waves and minnows nip at cuts unbruised
I feed thee
Thee bite and get glass-tapped ’til the amusement sours
Then returned indifferent; at scale galactic, cyclic
In the dark weights of spatial awareness
Contortions as if the terrain has some give
It just keeps getting, going.
Butter [age-appropriate gender descriptor]'s Cave 