Elemental forces fire across the vanguard,
single atoms of carbon, hydrogen,
oxygen, colliding and congealing together
in the loaded air found between synapses;
the blood sugar is running high,
worthy application of a hungry chi.
The printing press is ready to beat,
even if the weight behind the oil and soot
is not evenly submitted; the only matter
is the willing vellum, asking to be lit
by the fires of knowledge, its nature
to spread and consume the wicks of man.
Carve out the punches, build your frames
and set your lines: whether with genius
or steady practice and perfection,
or the predestined, noble hobble of time,
the potentials are there now to be clasped,
the sheaves dipped and diluted with force.