Who made who?

I wonder if sun rays

String the harp that God plays

While She strums the melodies

Of all the tragedies that Need to be

 

Need to be?

// Needlessly?

 

Or maybe it’s strung up with carcasses

And the heavens run on darknesses

Fed by that never-ending dynamo

Of live – suffer – let-go

 

The dynamo raging down below:

Pixels and gunshots,

Art, pain, and love plots,

Laughter and blood clots.

 

 

Lost in hypotheticals

Lost to myths of miracles

Ignoring what’s inside of us

Atoms, magic, cosmic dust

 

We’re of that self-same paradise

That lights the naked skies at night

We’ve got our own strings to strum

And they spill rhythm, dance, and reckless love.