You seek that one word
a brief cluster of wit.
You want it to convey
the entire cosmos of the text
its spiralling worlds
in a single, dynamic particle.

You search for the
ultimate starting point
the liberating bracket
the line to be crossed
but it eludes you.

You think of games
and nobility, mysteries
and systems, that’ll-do
and that’s-not-right,
sleeplessness, frustration
climbing, digging, clutching
at the dregs of inspiration
for one more drop.

You sigh, sit back, and shrug.
Fuck it. It’s just a title.