The tears have been led astray, and
In the broken wake of glorious reverie,
Now lies the listless monotony of work.
The star's flash 'fore death,
Or the symphony's closing verse
Are akin; energy and brilliance
Where dead silence follows suit.
Yet even though the horseman be headless,
Death is not yet his domain
And his steed is still swift of foot,
Strong of back, and quick of wit.
He may still make his run should he please;
But only to pursue his needs,
For his interests are no longer accountable.
In light of this light,
The vulture will scout his carcass,
Just as the carcass came to death
Of his own means. Should the world
thereafter fall to chaos, let it be for good,
For entropy is the natural state of the world,
And the true engine of progress.
Come break what is broken;
Take the anvil and dash it hot,
'Till the sparks catch fire the shop,
Or cleft the atom down the seam,
Let its power wipe clean the slate.
For if two wrongs make right,
Then surely doubled dark would make light.
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