An even thicker rind of bitter pith,

Estranged from the serenity that lies outside its comprehension.

For what resides within is a supple flesh dissonant to its confines,

Exuding a sweet nectar that remains clothed in the abstract.


But the bitter fruit thrives in its circumstances.

For its sharpness remains and astringency a remnant of its upheaval,

And through its ruin, the symphony of its estranged serenity thrives in its wake.