They say the world will end in peaceful chaos,
and nonsense will reign
all because of one split earlobe.
And in all anxiety of separateness,
there is, and will be found, something,
someone subdued.
A vague calm, awaiting the fury
when all is cold, lingering by the light
with four screeching magpies
talk, talk, talk.
A noisy chatter
that somehow is subdued-- Not subdued!
But fades away
into a constant hum
of static.
And that is the answer, always received.

The last word.  
"I have won!" They will say.
And to be conquered, oh, to be
something subdued.

And one morning, you will rise,
drowning in an ocean of light, always
reminding you
of  that daunting, waking presence
of degradation and evolution--
of the devils squawking from shoulder to shoulder,
fighting for a constant ear, pierced by all that noise--
That was always you.

They don't exist, but the boredom of living,
and the tedium of anxiety over one
healed earlobe, still split, of course, does.
But all is well.
It doesn't need to be apathy, this spinning
contradiction of existence and thought:

We need answers for everything,
so we make them, and we find them.
Never there,
and yet, always there too.
They say everything can be broken down
into smaller pieces and that makes for easy examination.
Easy observation.
They say everything exists at once, times one-thousand,
maybe more, neither here nor there.
Something simultaneous, someone everywhere.
The omnipotent mind, twisting himself
in and around, infinitely and  constantly,
and that makes all the difference.

It is meaningless.  And what will you do with all these
actions of resurrected futility?
Create a codependency, no doubt, on the magic of science and the ease
of technological advancements.  Continuing this evasive circle of modern life
and meaningless distraction-- Who can afford to live
and who cannot?
Surely, there is no winner.

We all get to the same place in the end, and knowledge,
unlike currency, through meaningless chatter,
may perhaps outlive you.