Where exactly.
To what end.
For whom.
Rhetorical or not.
The questions stand like.
Like the rest of the monotonous.
In lines.
Guided by carpet and cards alike.
Strung about the strung out.
As if the norm.
Was within the crystal ball.
Answers that seemed to ring from nowhere.
Cascaded through the crowd about.
Faster than one would realize.
Before.
Less of what was.
Emerged into a plague of sorts.
Where sense and logic seemed more seance than the latter.
If only emptiness.
Knew pain.
Pity.
The world found another,
to consume.