Got a speck of green.
Some here, some there, hurting my eye.
The look of a pleasant evening
Only but gives me the creeps of the night.
Two homes like hardened vehicles
Touched the surface
It had no wheels, no paddles
And no hopes in a race.
A hand then pecked out a little,
A little, a little and a little more
And with wooden oars in hand
Gave a push to one of the homes.
Yes, not homes but boats they were,
Beautiful sullying things, and
Breaking the rules of the empirical system,
Made the man stand above the sea.
Yet what eye and what ears,
Cannot sense the clarity of it,
The speed, correctness and
Nothing but the unclear
Theories in those minds lays.
They think too much though and act the least,
And believes that the world is so,
So easily believes a lake beautiful be but none.
God, if you are all ears,
And have not yourself smeared
You in uncanny vividness,
I wish for me the creator,
Never in me lead such essence.