The Great Algorithm in the Twilight

Numbers never add up on this balance sheet.

Photo by on

I find it best to be like the product that lurks
in the furthest recesses of a food container,
equally as delicious as the rest of the product,
but so much more difficult to reach and enjoy.

My province is the sacred profane and the inane.
I handle the pitiful and the pity glass half empty.
Don’t talk to me about the poetic visionary license.
It’s really the poetic burden that shapes my words.

We take the smallest sips from our watery graves,
not in amounts adequate to hasten the process,
but enough to acknowledge that we are en route
to another time and perhaps another dimension.

All of us gather together, even the smallest of us,
to concoct a mix bigger than any single ingredient.
When we are thoroughly blended, it’s our true recipe
that no one can separate once we are baked together.

Accept nothing as-is. Tear it down and start over again.
Tightly-wound counterclockwise, when you break free,
the recoil hurts, but the spring does return to your step.
Do try this particular exercise but once in your lifetime.

What I’ve found is that living is as easy as nearly falling
in front of an oncoming vehicle that would deliver you
to the next life, then freezing time from that point onward.
Just don’t try this risky exercise without adult supervision.