You were born to a cold world
Two brief blips in the script of this old girl
You were pranked by the body
Blood full of copies, brain going lossy
You were eight generations defiant
To punch chads dumb and throw heirs to the lions
You were blind to the science
Deaf to the signs of the sirens at event horizons
Bastards. Maniacal laughter
Hocks that hot popcorn for disaster
Planned for the future, braced for the ruse
Paid for a feature, walked in a spoof
The portent's poison and potent
Ignore the moment and go through the motions
Take to the concrete and foment
Or yield to enjoyment and opt to contort to the formant
The truth is the loom is a boon, a tapestry
Mapped for the few, apt to adapt to the muse
A sentence exhumed from the ruins
And woven to human cocoons
Make what you mean when you move
The task is a proof, a Rosetta Stone for the runes
Tracks on the sand in the dunes where the prints show paths
Wherever two gather's a mass
Face the facts
The mercury drop in the off-square die is cast
And the house don't play with the chips it has
The whole card sharp deck is stacked
Let these asses draw blanks while we draw the map
And form fists where they ought to have formed a pact
But act fast. Go to. Poke through the mask
Wherever two gather's a Mass. Gather. Amass
What ears you have
Soft shells that corral where the waves impact
What eyes that espy through that fringe of lash
And canines that you ply on the prey you catch
What hands into prayer have you clasped to ask
In the hour of need what you dreamt you'd have?
With what arms have you held when you pled it'd pass?
On what legs have you walked that elusive path?
What bodies have wrapped in a helix math
And then labored to grasp what it was they hatched?
And what love will last, when the past is collapsed
And bereft in the depths of a dark crevasse?
What works have you left for the world to have
Long after your time has passed? And what sound is that?
What music in what contract with what words
On whose behalf? Well, I'm glad you asked
Face the facts
The mercury drop in the off-square die is cast
And the house don't play with the chips it has
The whole card sharp deck is stacked
Let these asses draw blanks while we draw the map
And form fists where they ought to have formed a pact
But act fast. Go to. Poke through the mask
Wherever two gather's a Mass. Gather. Amass