The way things revolve,
The way things work,
The way things spin,
And in which way they turn
Are all but random,
Yet simply chaotic.

I cannot try to concieve
In which things we tampered,
With which things we mingled
To inspire results we demaned.

Frequently questioned,
And often repeated
Are queries to why we suffer
And why we repeat this.

Simplicity is abundant,
Only complicated by ourselves,
Only complicated by our affairs,
Complicated by our primitive desires,
By our wants,
Our beliefs.

Called me a liar,
They would,
Should i claim no desire,
No wish to understand.

Whether we spin with the globe,
Or stand tall and stiff,
This earth will turn
And never hold still.

Opinions vary,
Beliefs differ,
But never weary
Of the minor things.

Great God or Gods,
Or none at all,
Those who stand tall
May also fall.

Tolerance imprisioned
In a relentless abyss
Of inevitable hypocriticalness,
We digress.

We'll never see
Past simple things
Like this eternal mist,
For we digress.