Chaos is constant,
Liberties are lies.

The volatile nature of the ever shifting storm,
Beats life into a reaction.
Adapt to live,
Concede, change or die.

The rigid line of order,
Keeps the coin from flipping.
Exist within the lines,
Habituate, acclimate  or suffer.

Fall through the metaphysical event horizon or crawl the grey production belt.


Both paths converge and blacken,
The same rust stalks the journey.

Stepping outside the picture,
So vast you could not see.
Always growing larger;
The unstoppable progress of infinite possibility,
Could there really be any consequence?
As a fog within the mist,
A lake under the ocean.
Should we quantify significance?

Pushed or dragged from cries to silence,
No man has had control,
The stream within the river,
Ignorant in its role.