Irrational as I am,
π,
outwards I spring
incandescent, turbionique flows
twirling you into a
water-lilly core,
in buoyancy
holding you,
my womb ripe with
laughter,
joy,
thoughts one-of-a-kind,
pyramidal pointing
towards
some end of the world
where
painters like my father
are born again
after repetitive deaths
in fresh, crisp,
illuminative
sighs