Necker Cube - Saintseneca

Ah make me a believer

Ah make me un-believe her

Ours is a fruitless labor

Base and benign

Laid to the waste endeavors

Red on the rind

Out in this listless posture

Seeds in the sun

Dream of the forest fire we will become

On to the yawning chasm

Bleached by the dark

When obsolescence has them

Visions depart

Yours an unwieldy welcome

Prickled and obtuse

Too wary to wear it out

To smooth it with use