Leavin' room for improvement
So it can only get better from here
Weavin' through the movement
'Cause we don't see the letters, they're unclear
When the symbols cease to represent the idea that they once did
And the nimble pieces fled your head
It's time to return to the center
Do our words betray us
in trying to capture the feeling that we describe?
Or do these verbs create us,
confining our maps to reveal only what we can define?
Can we observe the truth occur,
and then preserve that truth in words?
Or are the words absurd?
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