Why me? I am but a bit
Of matter—conscious
Brief encarnacion
Of time—its energy.
My words are the voice
Of others—I breath
The common air—
Poisoned by all for all
—our mutual condemnation.
Ours is the sun, its daily rout
Across the sky above us.
Ours the vault of night,
Dully blinded for ever,
Ominously dark but
for the moon, an omen too
Of change—the passing time—
Of deeper wells of nothingness—
Oblivion. —Why me?
We chant in chorus.
