Instructions:
Before the Universe is built, you must establish it....
Wai....what?! A cloud of dust, form lifeless light
With beams pixeled sprites, and build sound from sight
The unstoppable touch of heat the unspeakable smells
All rise.
Before the World is sold, you must sell your soul. My soul?!
To whom, a vacuum upon a hill, tell me I am forced to partake
Forgo but chance and will, like the cravings of pie pass the window
Sitting on a sill. Instill in me some hope that there is possible ways
To cope, a sign!
Before a metaphor is found, you must stake it through the heart
Make it know that you it made yours and other's chests did pound.
Christopher Baird 2012 ©
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