Here’s another centerpiece to explain how flowers are cut in plurals of progression. 
 
Iconoclasts count on progressions in a series, along with any allure of falling fortunes  
(they did).  
From the center literally nothing is granted, good as your word.   

Good as a poem.   
Now, fine timing   
Since you waited to listen, not empower others.    
  
Every misconception is in the open, living unhinged, no limits. A fact, also  a point... an ornamental one; our brain / body fiber pierced day, night, point b...   
  
Terpsichore stays ascetic, improvisatory, a voice sherbet hued like Erato’s toppling the series, voices of suspicion, hisses.