Life is short. This poem is too
Damn long. You don’t know it yet,
But listen, scroll down, or turn
The page and it will hit you.
This thing goes on forever,
Uncoiling as consequence,
The serpentine delusion
That convinces us
We actually caused something.
This poem knows better.
There’s no gap in happening
But no causation either.
Are you tired yet?
I said this poem is too long.
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