The Chain of Causality The chain of causality is girded in true silver, The slight and pliable line, Patterning and weaving the diffuse into the singular. You may not split off a rod or twine.
When you fled from the bower of the womb And made your stead in the world at large, That silver thread still bound you yet, Dancing you in accord to its tune, That little craftsman forging apocryphal runes.
You may tug at the thread, gnaw it, bite it. You may go through the motions impassively. But if ever you think, "I can alight it," Know that for each and every one, is a like thread, All cohering at that final terminus.
Within its confines you tread, Put your dreams and Will to bed.
End of line is end of meaning, No one can thrive out there alone. Dare you to tear the plan unseaming, With rabid eyes and heart gleaming, Know you cannot master the darkling groan, For the entropic lords sit atop their thrones.
The Emergent Sea 