It began in hushed whispers,
High up, in heavenly chambers.
When the plot was hatched,
Arose from the ashes of bad ideas
The creature referred to as man.
In a trashcan on a barren street,
Life as we know it began.
Fragile and clueless, the seeds sown
And the baby got up,
Looked in again, a torn hoodie
7 Sizes too big; covered its skin.
Eyes hardly open, the street sorely stale
The thing that was to be man, made its way.
No piercing stare was it spared of
Its journey a life of scare.
And then they look down
Thinking what have they done?
The conspiracy out in the light to see
Man was made by man himself
There was no changing who he’d be
Alas, the snowy winter ‘live again
Threatening to blow down the pane
Shattered glass roars away
This baby, a year older each day.
When manhood strikes, ready is he.
Man is prepared not what to see, but what to feel
Then they’d look up from the skies above
Wondering what conspiracy to hatch
The last one failed and so will the next
Because man mastered his destiny
For him there is no beginning, no end.
No eternal hope or glorious faith.
No, for him, his destiny is done
He’s made it out long before he had come
Conspirers will conspire, and life will go on
But how long will he toy around
Dancing with fire and reading its light
Never wise, never insight.
But who’s to say, without a pinch of salt
All taken away, A blueprint moulded,
Into the concrete of reality
limited infinite 