Nature is Random. Beauty is Not.


When an occurrence describes as random
(pious) lick their lips
And dribble saliva, “see it’s raining!”
Abusing the evidence of their creation
As empirical confirmation, but their doctrine
Is a lie, a perfect lie.
Reasoning that random occurrence is truth.
He is exuberant while dancing through the universe.
Kicking pebbles and throwing pollen
As a follow through of leg jerks
And thrashing arm spasms.

I am an insect. A worker ant.
To me the pebbles are an obstruction.
So when his dance tip-toes fanfare dirt
Some in my caste scream in response to his laughter.
Some pray to his toes, “I am so little. I pray I don’t die.”

The smartest enjoy his departure,
For when the messiah returns
All shall perish.

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