Aug 212011
Life's a marble in a bowl:	 
	 All agony but a rolling chance,
	 The bullfight no longer a dance
Of misdirection toward a goal.

Life's a story with no moral;
	 Condensation's circles yet
	 No ring of meaning can beget.
Race to rail against the choral

Loves hossannaed by the mass
	 Of men, who see their circle
	 Flout timid time and weary wrinkle,
Whose dreams go buried by the grass.

Know that your own nothingness
	 A nothingness stays, a felt
	 Backdrop or dead pelt
Stroked by hands half calluses.

There's no lesson to be learned
	 From all the tarnished marvel
	 Of our mayhem, still the larval
Stage of chaos for we damned.

Impotent in the pouring wrack
	 Of disaster's icy hail
	 Stripping deep with red-hot flails
Splintered skin that'd been my back.

I stand in draining anger,
	 Half-aghast to understand
	 Myself am likewise but a man
Dreaming Fate is not a stranger.

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