One need not summon entropy
for our fates are woven into our traits
and desire can only adhere for so long.
The moon remains unbloodied
while the soil drinks us back into our true homes.
Whether or not we're to agree that meaning survives
outside the realm of our suppositions,
no key might ever be forged that could open our minds
wide enough to tell the difference.
Each night we taste eternity.
Tomorrow is a lie.