The Broad Avenues of the Bright Dawn

Snapping through the lists

Deleting everything

Running out of ideas

Locking down all avenues of creation

Triggering the answers

When all things are known,

There is nothing left to say

Cutting off all privacy

Derision heaping on the creationists

Bring all your petty works

Eliminate the creation sum cogitatum

Slide the locks not onto the wrists

But rather, free all man

Capitulate not,

But trimph

Capture the pure land of morning

Stumble not down dark alleyways

But walk in the broad avenues of the bright dawn

Silver your flesh with the blue pigments

Come into your power

The vines spotted with disease,

And covered with pollinators

Still going strong

Grinding the ashes into the floors

Bringing up the motions of solitude

Collapsing the wave of unfeeling

Wreaking havoc on the twelve steps

Taking your pills

Coming together; coming apart

Sliding the tumblers on the cosmic locks

Hearing them click into place

Opening the doors to transcendence

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