...Yet I still have visions of
Death and his father,

Disconsolate and privy
The tears of his mother

His love for her deep but
No one should know,
For her burden is heavy,
And her shoulders are low

6 billion,
7 billion,
she rotates all the more...

And yet I still have these visions
Of death and his father,

Furrowing along space without
Sister nor brother,
Sitting by his feet gaining his wisdom
Like fodder

The unenviable task,
Despised by all,
Such a burden to bear
Such a levy to toll...