v5. Greenware

[rowens]

Deprived of touch, this vessel was no more
abandoned than the past it had obscured:
a distant being as an endless shore.

So blessed be the cold, the arid word;
its darkness held a dreaming of return
the temporal mind fathoms as absurd.


Rhythm, has no sense of correct. But you may follow rules if that is what is the point.

Also you can feel the register shift from the more airy less "correct" 
and then the following stanza more authorative, kind of. 
And you have the blessing of how people might or might not pronounce blessed and temporal.
Etc. 



And praise be to the earth that prayers spurn
in wanting paradise. This earthly weight
was carried until I could not discern

the self from suffering my maker's fate.
The susurrations swell into a roar
of waves these warped and withered forms create.

Deprived of warmth, this vessel is no more.
Its being is the sempiternal shore.