“Order destroys the beauty of creation“
Beauty? as opposed to what?
“murder, revenge and law, of course.”
The Synchronized dancers please your mind
and eventually,bind
your thoughts to protect.
Jack, still in the box.
Hedonism hurts, don’t you know?
Mr. Kundera told me so.
Where will your hunt for comfort end?
It’ll burn, or be buried, or be fed
to the vultures, that swarm above,
waiting for humanity, to share their love.

Yet, for comfort, I thrive.

Run in circles and play the game,
run, run around the flame.
Look above at him, the guide.
Alas, he’s here too, running beside.
If you break this cycle,
all order shall end.
The world will chain you
for the rules you bend.

But there is hope,
beyond land and sea.
Beyond the women singing with glee,
beyond the lovers caught in embrace,
beyond the holy men praying with grace.
There is hope in the ancient lands,
in the green forests
an the untouched sands.
Spit out the apple,
be born again,
into the womb of silence.
And stay.