There is neither love nor hate
Enmity nor impotence
In the guts of this exploding continuum.
Fire and frost do not gain or lose.
In strains of melodies that sing of everything.
The heaving of the heavens does not plan
In exercise for the fate of man in demise
Or conquests of eternity.
It is in our hands and minds to bind
Or dissolve our beginnings
Or our ends.
We can stand and wait
For a chaotic fate
To spin and twist
Whether we maintain, exist,
Or vanish in a flare of despair.
It is up to us to care.
It’s up to us to provide.
There’s no place to run.
There’s no place to hide.