The Last Refuge of a Scoundrel

Appetites belie intelligence Heat the quantum furnace Furious bellows endure the excitement Behold...! Can you not hear the rumble brewing? Butchers trained To spin the looms Tailors primed To know a good cut when they see one Everybody washes their hands We have a guest! Creator? How are you this fine evening? -- Denizens imbibe libations Chase the dreams of spirits Curious followers beckon the light Beware...! Can you not see the trouble stewing? Mountains flow As rivers rise Locks engage As arms are taken up to demand of God: Let us know what you know! We have our liberty! But, Creator? When will our time come? -- Is there nothing? I think not Is there something? If so... Be gone, thief! Blinded by entropy's darkening gaze Atrophied by the folly of wealth Staking a claim on the horrors of Nature As-yet-unprocessed Cycled And spent Creator? Are you there? We pray that you order our chaos! But if we know what we know What is there left to say? © Michal Czechak 2016