Buckyball

A pressure-like feeling in the chest That hangs for long enough May send a man delving down Into the deepest depths of himself And by going past the crust of comfort We enter the majestic halls Lined by crystal obelisk Long lain dormant Shining with inner reflection Like in the days of old You can't help but look at them As you pass by what you are Seeing your own face Shining back at you On the smooth and flat Surface The air is old and familiar And as you make progress Down the tunnels ancient It sucks you down all the deeper Where it takes you is to The very heart of the mountain Of the earth Upon which you stand And there you can see The mighty machine The very gears and cogs Which turn To create these trails You follow To the reader's dismay The articulator is seen building faults And as the thought appears One realizes It was broken The message of man In essence may only be passed Like the well constructed Buckyball And so as we stand next to the rumbling machine The one which binds flat planes into spaces To watch how it makes all the panels connect To be devoured by our primal appetite Of understanding

CuldeSac

What are words without understanding and what is understanding without sense?

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