The week is long and the day is short.
The joy is brief while the pain lasts.
Some ships will never return to port
And some mystics gain from their long fasts.
Agreement is a resource foreign to politics
Because every wheel needs to get greased.
Without oil, the whole machine would get sick,
And the bubble would burst along with our lease
On this Earth. But, the play goes on, replete
With the dalliance of sing-song Spain.
What riches will rare wisdom soon secrete?
How much influence can a celebrity entertain?
These are the questions of the unoccupied
Who cannot fancy the immensity of change.
All of the infinity that has been tied
into a cosmos with an eternity for its range
Is beyond the mind of the average Simian.
Understanding a fraction of the Universe
Is like understanding the Silmarillion:
You can’t. Stop trying, you’re making it worse.
And, this poem was conceived by an absent-
minded mother and a tedious, towering Father;
The former is Creativity mixed with absynthe
And her companion is Logic, who doesn’t bother
Anyone.