We saunter blithely through this endless space,
Where we have no right to be.
Collecting cluttered, contradictory noises,
That in some Utopia might be cohesive.
Choice. The outcome of bad decisions.
Imagination, inexorably stretching reality to what might be.
Questioning what we think is right?
From chaos, should there be order?
From sadness, catharsis?
Atonement from cruelty?
Sharing joy?
The end should never be known from the start.
So that the message, camouflaged in dark humour,
Takes us to places we wouldn’t normally go.
And yet when we are done in this space, I know,
These questions will outlast us.
