Quatrain

It wasn't that I was particularly inspired or otherwise motivated to begin this treatise--rather it was a strange compulsion that compelled my fingers to rest upon the keys and begin to type.  The typing was frictionless--words flowed unbidden and unhindered, and played upon the kaliedescope of virtual paper like swans floating on a technicolor lake.  They were white in their purity, but no conclusions resulted from their conveyance.  They were immobile: zero force, but their p...