What haven't I added yet
To my collection
What shapes have I not taken
Form of a question?
Incarnate my presence
Needs none to acknowledge
And far from the world
And its wars
I seek solace
To soldier along
To a song of disharmony
Weapons continue to prosper
Disarming me
Warming the globe
To a strobe-litter grave
That my cosmic illogical
Alien probe
Does not know
How to save
Droves of people
Enslaved
Driven on to
A critical
Mass-approach grave
Such a craving to sate
For what we automate
To replace us, supplant
And depose
So it goes
And what grows
From the dust
And the ashes
Disowns
Any trace of us lost to
The space in between
What is you?
What is me?
What is life?
But a dream