Over in a corner one man said, “It’s right along here that I get all confused, now
let’s say that the gods were our ancestors, and that our ancestors are let’s say,
like food, then I get discombobulated over the two possibilities,
I mean, are we like plates or stomachs?”
And a far corner said, “What if we’re more like eating?”
Those disinclined to take anyone else’s word for anything
may develop a smaller, though richer, vocabulary.
Whilst standing navel deep in mud, watching his house float away, and having the
winds pulling his eye balls from their sockets, this one upbeat, (or was it beat up)
fellow thought, “As wondrous and fulfilling as it’s been to been to be the recipient
of the planet’s weather all these years, wouldn’t it some day be nice to be where it
all begins.”
The Great Meteorological Machine, sitting around the poker table with some chums,
spoke up and asked, “What gives with these guys with two eyes…
they always think the center’s somewhere else.”
As one fighter sat toying with his gloves, he said to his ancestral, though childlike manager,
“I’m telling you again, if I’m climbing in the ring with information like that,
I wanna know that the fix is in.”
Planets do as they must,
stars do as they please.
J.