Science and industry; hide and seek;
Playing tag with the humble, weary, weak,
Broken, forsaken, forgotten, unforgiven -
All amid a tide of blueberry songs, driven
By the harmony of my poetic bride.

Misrecollect the past and present;
His prose - one time - was oddly pleasant
To read and rhyme. But why concede
When conjecture, rather, could make you bleed
Into a pool of incoherent rhymes less-cruel?

They're tired of making sense, trying reason;
Self-conclusion's now in season
For once, for always.  And our delusion?
Ruled by chance, subdued by one allusion:
Love.  A simple hoax from those above.

Remember what you say, want, hope, feel,
For the day will come - stark, surreal -
When you'll find yourself alone,
Deserted.  The world will be unknown,
Inverted, and no one will be able to save you.

Not even me.