At an intergalactic feast table in Valhalla.
Conversation between two organ grinders.
ORGAN GRINDER 1:
When all is gone, in a sigh, and
Science tells you all the while
The how ^ n but not the why --
What will you reply?
ORGAN GRINDER 2:
I am safe, I exist, in
Fleeting-mind protagonist
Of Story worth some proper Verse
Of Son gifted a Universe.
ORGAN GRINDER 1:
Do not get your hopes up, son
You'll be puff 'fore day is done
Never breath of fire so fine
But your life, son, is on the line.
ORGAN GRINDER 2:
Like tightrope walker I see depth
Of darkness calling to my death
But in that darkness I'll see light
If it consumes me, it's His right.
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