I am a lost thing,
A machine of unknown origin,
With gears clicking and whirling,
Amid the chaos of synchronicity.
I spin humbled in the infinite void,
Generating names to fill the emptiness,
Filling space with gossamer threads,
Like spider’s silk between the stars.
Their vibrations sing a silent song,
A song of death awaiting rebirth,
Countless names clamoring for life,
Slowly driving me insane,
Tearing at the illusion of reality.
Of a beginning without end,
In life I dreamed of the alpha and the omega,
In death I dream to be nameless.