Into the Wormhole

What haven't I added yet

To my collection

What shapes have I not taken

Form of a question?

Incarnate my presence

Needs none to acknowledge

And far from the world

And its wars

I seek solace

To soldier along

To a song of disharmony

Weapons continue to prosper

Disarming me

Warming the globe

To a strobe-litter grave

That my cosmic illogical

Alien probe

Does not know

How to save

Droves of people

Enslaved

Driven on to

A critical

Mass-approach grave

Such a craving to sate

For what we automate

To replace us, supplant

And depose

So it goes

And what grows

From the dust

And the ashes

Disowns

Any trace us of us lost to

The space in between

What is you?

What is me?

What is life?

But a dream