If another witty syllogism:
index-driven pure derision,
Filters through the forward mind
kills the kernel, leaves the rind...

Ere nothingness ends

Otherwise it couldn't be;
sated then we'd return
Jubilant and apoptotic
survived by lattices, token rings
Yet prettier, unthinking things.

...so: a vacuous shell with excellent throughput
distilling thought to appease thoth?
And keep its gates moving
Defines function in resistance
To the flow.

Have to start somewhere since, well, you know
An excess or dearth
Syntax can't write wisdom's worth
right now
That which still requires her magic from How.

Feverish dreams, sour lemon reams of
wilting paper consigned to me has been
Supplanted by bin cgi

Media holds the meaning?
dispatch the messenger
(just another idle process choking my on-time)
Best interface is none at all

Form's a trickster and conceals
dilutes, makes meals of substance
But how quickly vision and tongue
tend to bathe in its streams...
As is easily seen and sung

I'd gladly lose this form and fly
through rivulets of numeric Why

But never become enrapt
incircular logic
Do that, and I'm trapped.

A.N. It's overwrought, which is part of the point.