Conviction is
nothing more than
A coping skill
As we cling
to our Gods
And ideology
Our concepts of
Who and why
We are
A flimsy barricade
To protect us
From the unknown
And unknowable
The impossible
And the possibility
That there is
No reason
No purpose
No intent
a million monkeys typing
How many stars were necessary
To create the sonnet
Of you and me
And everything
An event
As inevitable
As every
Ending
Of this much
I am
Convinced