The Sound of the Drum That Signaled the Night Watches

Beginning with the seemingly simple
Task of defining the risk of dying,
The founders of the state of insurance
Worked their way backward in contrapuntal,

Crablike elegance, mincing and waving
Their pincers at the hissing sands of time.
Inside each crab, a tiny, monk-like flame
Lit the dim lamp of absurd awareness

Of the absurdity of awareness.
Why would it ever matter to matter

What happened to matter on conversion
Into one more energetic gesture

Of an over-sized claw on the long shore
That defines the edge of this enigma?