reality

no truth in fractions even less in wholes
inherent in the thing's another fact
beyond the entity there's also the act
it isn't things that matter it's their roles
what's inert contains nothing that consoles
but motion whatever requires exact
timing what goes beyond the tract
almost as if the things we make have souls
seeing the process leads to a mistake
forgetting that abstractions never all
to apprehend the facts is more than we
can do unless we're ready at last to forsake
subjective hopes and beauty's siren call
with no illusions we can then be free