With infinite discrepancy I rum do.
Transverse modes that no one knows,
A priori assumption, which define my prose.
Whom do you need, whom do you love?
It is an algorithm shot down from above.
Far from an evaluation declaration,
Of destinies, estimate of a rough calculation.
In which I do not even think twice,
One-step I take on to thin ice,
Refractive index, diffractive terms,
Equations of concerns and germs.
Wait, look, listen what could this be?
Is this really the one for me?
Suddenly perplexed is this a hex?
Time’s evolution of an arbitrary profile,
No wait come back, transverse with me awhile.
I have been waiting for you
With infinite discrepancy I rum do
Then I awaken…
Richard Carter
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