The sun comes up,
And so the day begins.

A busload of magicians passes through
On its way to the carnival
Where men in uniforms dance around
A fallen tree
That no one was around to hear
As it sank into the cold ground
Which nourishes the wildflowers
That whisper to the bees
As they sit upon the liquid
Which will feed a population
Whose only job is to feed a population
Whose arms appear to be broken
And whose souls are lost
In a world where humans
Take the lives of humans
Who sang lullabies to their children
While they dreamed of white doves
Who sang lullabies to their children
While they dreamed of flying from the nest
That sheltered and comforted her sister
Who fell down to the grass
Which hid the snakes
So they could see another sun go down
And wonder how something so large
Can be easily pushed down past the horizon.
Perhaps it is the work of a magician.

The moon comes up,
And so the night begins.