gestalt or the gita

so far from a simple world
that understands yes and no
with but a single rule
get it right, or try again
messed up with messy humans

this bit is mine,
that bit is wrong,
this bit is secret
that bit is useless

thank you for the ragged ribbons
the money for my priceless time
please accept this pretty bow
as a memory of us
I must
return to all the broken bits
waiting jumbled and wronged
put them in a straight line
and make a byte

turn dammit turn

born with a compass
conditioned with metal
levers and pulleys
slowdown
theres a dream due north
fastforward
to the final destination
compass-in a ditch
a lever and a pulley
clutched tight in each hand