Thank
you for holding.
We may never know what’s going on
at the very centre of our Earth
where, four thousand miles straight down,
zooms a point, indivisible, hot.
Thanks
for continuing to hold.
At least old Mozart’s a tuneful balm
but, sadly, there’s a potential burst,
a chance of magma time:
to do my best or to do my worst.
Thanks
for holding.
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