Things happen not for one reason but for many,
none of which struggle and scheme on your behalf.

Inadequate to the handicap,
purpose reposes so small alongside accident.

We must blaspheme against certainty
or against truth,

press ourselves full-length, naked,
against a cold window running with rain,

hoping our naked hopes, believing our naked beliefs,
fearing our naked fears and loving our naked loves.

Entropy is forecast to win, of course,
but we will bet on the longshots, won't we?

Not all extravagance leads to dissolution;
not all care conserves.

When stubbornness can no longer transcend weakness—
this is the point of no concern.

Your brain will conform to someone's expectations,
imagine limits that we will call "you."

How often is what appears to be resilience
actually complacency?

It is true.
It is also untrue.

In a just world, you would only die
when you ran out of things you wanted to do.