Needle-pricks of light streaming through the wall
Limited evidence of what's on the other side
You take bits of perception, turn them into truth,
Multiply by Pi and claim knowledge,
Viciously defend hard-luck convictions and
Cling to them as if they're all you own.
But all who have ears should hear:
Behind this pulsating wall of tissue is the
Cold, harsh light of a pagan supernova
Bursting
Exploding
Dying
Into the absurd, harmless glow of oblivion.
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