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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

prayerfree verse

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