there is the final addition.
failing to grasp along the perfect bricks.
the drones below & emotion virginally injected.
a soul is born & a hate started.
quenched & fueled.
once just.
but the animator is gone away.
his cells drift now as snow through the cosmos.
ignored by Heaven's creator.
crying.
pleading
to their new God.
like children torn from platonic womb.
in the fury, logic flees.
dust settles & creation stops.
existence steps into frame.
watery eyes shift.
focusing on this figure so longed for.
so long before we breathed clay.
not defined by tranquility.
peace not standing.