One was supposed to do the things one didn’t do –
respond to the imperious decree to procreate –
examine living for its legacy – determine to pursue
whatever would leave proof that one existed: to create
what hadn’t been before: to make like God.
You can’t help thinking, though, God does it all for fun:
excites Existence to a peak until it’s shot its wad.
Hmm. That sounds like something you have done.
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