Language of Reality

[Figgly Wiggly]

Linguistic sequences encapsulate our wreathing realities....
(OUR reality. The ego there's as present as malady!)
... but uh... objective nature is conceptual fallacy...
so... syntax is a messenger that's constantly fractling
in a manner that denounces enormity... absorbed are we.
Buried within fragments that our magic is quartering
(the verbiage rains discursive till the flowers have drowned.
give them the semblance of an exit from the rising dust cloud)
It's like... bottle, blanket, lady: mommy, aunty. Anomalies
in the eyes of infants trying to subside the ***ophony.
The blur. Within this struggle, we are given the word.
The absurd is given order. A telepathy's learned.
Verbally spurning, we slowly murder and desert what's occurring
(like what's occurring in this verse is being lost in the wording?)
See then, our state of being is a metaphor. Breathing.
Seemingly undergoing methods of understanding it's meaning.
The objects of nature's poetry, retracing ourselves.
This message is manifested in our language as well.
And while every person's a database of delicate lexicon,
the friction of opposing diction heats up increscent thoughts.
Actively sharing vocabulary. Sentencing God.
Or pseudo empathetic nods made in reticent fog.
Expand the scope. In that, retract all presuppositions;
Insolence in art can hardly be regarded as wisdom.
All schism's are prison. Nature is the symbolic grace.
In this way, no answer's given, only cautiously placed.