There are infinite romantic ideas
that might be called poetry.
And when it get's right down
to their literal denotative,
no questions asked,
redundantly detailed,
unambiguous meaning
they're no different
than an equation,
a set of numbers,
a chart of data,
chemicals in beakers,
molecules in the air,
molecules that are air,
the vacuum of space.

Is it a cynical thing?
To say on the cosmic scale
everyone is meaningless?
It's a fucking truth for sure.

There are infinite atoms
in the factual universe.
But when it comes straight up
to unprejudiced,
all encompassing,
purely aesthetic,
and untamed beauty
each and everyone
forms a complex sculpture;
A sublime painting,
the waves of sound,
the sun and the sky,
the human face,
the human body,
flowers and trees,
the universe itself.

OTS, c4c
wow. That was impressive. A clever cynical piece that dosn't sound like midless whinging and is poetically beautiful. I am very impressed. I thoroughly enjoyed this
to their literal denotative,

I don't like hearing the word "denotative". It just doesn't flow off the tongue in my opinion.

molecules in the air,
molecules that are air,

Don't like the parallelism.

These are just some nitpicks that I gathered up. I feel obligated to when the piece is this good. As much as the first stanza teetered on gigantic-sentence-itis, it read smoothly. And despite the difference in tone, the "****ing truth" line was tastefully done. You really rode those lines hard, but it payed off.

Good job. Link in my sig if I was any help.