The Autonomy of Melancholy

An ancient sadness, in abeyance maybe (temporarily) or merely porous (as the concept itself). By reciprocal implication these articulated surfaces diverge. Geometrics unhinged, disinclined to composition by field or stream, a timely idleness inhabits the moment. Then kindred remnants gathered from now depleted bones of snow repose in fluorescence, fractal monsters lurk in an enormous forest of theorems.