Turning Point
the alchemy of deception
Drops of frugal affinity dripping one by— one and one — to balance the number of moles — and some souls — that somehow remain unbalanced —
Breaking bonds —covalently shared, sometimes co-valued— highly volatile — bypassing the melting points —with
Exaggerated bloating — in the flask — flat-bottomed with low EQ — calibrated meticulously — to purge out fixation — in portions — fractionally distilled.
Diffusing sparks — lest the lab and the fab explode — in silent treatment — letting it all ferment into fine fury — elevating the boiling points high.
Satire in the conical flask — placid, and remaining collected, off a comical burette — impervious to hurt — adding a pellet of gusto in alkaline mojo —
To neutralize some toxicity — failing which, salvaging some passivity — balancing the equations — to reach an unknown equilibrium — abiding by the laws — of some universal form.
Taking rate determining steps in callousness — walking very slow in stoic prance—with delocalised bodies of thought — unbefitting precise stoichiometery.
The inferences and observations leading on to conclusions — contrasting — driving change of state from solid to soliloquy — bringing the values down to absolute zero.
Filtering out the allotropic form of self — that is not part of the solution — but of the precipitate — with a weight — heavy and carried forward.
Viraji Ogodapola © April, 2022.
