Internal pain is translucent,
once unleashed by Pandora,
curiosity and desire spawning universes,
chaos math at their matrix,
the numerals law and criminal.
Their cores, just and unjust,
and so here we are on the precipice of truth,
debating realities.
Swear no fealty to a single lord,
choice defines us, but is not ours,
so we stand looking upon vast skies,
their stars gazing back at us, distant atoms,
nothing, knowing everything,
in our appetites we feed our reason,
and the decay of time becomes meaningless,
until simply being,
becomes being, simply.