Der witz und die weißheit des Agrippa von Nettesheim
And so then shall we walk lest we run headfirst into a wall?
Are we beyond the veil at last?
Or did the great galactic garbage disposal just find a delicious meal?
Und sie Stripes of Glory
doth spin above the sea…
Und sie come for you and me!!!
The Pink Crescent, the Red Wheel
and the Wolf Moon
together at last…
Spinning gracefully through space…
Howling at the moon, in times without food
scavenging in the barren, frazen snow.
But then anon…
A rainbow of flowers!
blooming under the fertile, crescent moon,
New beginnings, still spinning…
Then, as it always has been
and always will be,
A return to the frozen tundra,
Again the dance begins
On our infinitesimally small, grain-of -sand planet.
Die chymische Laboratorium
Und sie Zombie soljurn
doth leech aneath the sun…
as they come for everyone!!!
Tiny dancer, dancing in the sand…
Tiny dancer, dancing in the sand…
Kein Mensch ist eine Insel, ganz in sich selbst"
.
But then what of these birds? Huddled together in solidarity, facing an invisible foe? Such sorrow! An inevitable, immutable, immeasurable, relentless and fatal conclusion to their vainglorious, but ultimately unwitting, doomed and, well, pretty stupid endeavor?
Do they not see their end?
