In the uncanny void

  

                In  the uncanny  void         

 In   the uncanny void, there is copious renewal,

 in the throbbing fullness, there  is  some denial.

 In  the  cup   marmalade,  a  speck of sourness,

  In the rigid  jelly, there is   hardened  sweetness.

Quite   a  many believe in the white  crow on  sky.

Chase already  the  black on the    hop skip  fly.

Void  is  no longer  a   void,  but    flip to preamble

To   a   bank of   nets   and  rods in profitable   gamble.