I proclaim in our spiraling universe
The first and last stars molds truth and bounds worlds,
Curling nothingness which goes on and on
But I still say we’re far-gone and far more wrong
Than the song which blasts from a bubble of mute.
As for our father and further much closer to mother than revealed.
Safe yet twitching God
Angels which cry at angles, positively styling trying contribution
Of lost mental entrails and words which mean nothing, something
To scientist with more time than activity.
At least notify direction of my negativity ‘cause morbid halos
Are all I have above my head and beneath my feet is a polished rubble.
What that in which you spoke out of turn, what gives you the right
To think for yourself and be individual?
No, Imagine your fear of drowning without learning arithmetic.
1 + 1 = 3 as far as breathing is concerned. And
Imagine the universe without knowing that
Wall to wall
Wall to all, that to all
There is more than one face.
So to the same I proclaim the spiral is spinning but not sinking,
Nor growing as we are throwing everything at a single answer,
Perhaps we should prepare to not exist, first.
What was the question?