The logic of life…
  illogically pure

In search of itself,
  last problem to cure

Synapses relapse,
  science reclaims

The form with the formula,
  washed down the drain

Structural weakness,
  obsolescence defined

The clocks after midnight,
  forever to chime

With finality’s ink,
  used falsely to stamp

The rug underneath us,
  pulled out in a rant

Our nature found larcenous,
  truth we must steal

To claim for ourselves,
  what our lies deem as real

While eternity listens
  to this comedy play out

The light calling us inward
  —past reason and doubt

(Strafford Pennsylvania: June, 2019)