Never quite stationed, I see different moonlights
Paths - they grow darker, at times I lose sight
Always prepared to fly in search of smooth nights
Will it shed a new light?
Should I pick a blue knight?
Will the rhythm unite?
So many questions tonight
But the universe, they say, is all magical
Spread good vibes, they say, ungrammatical
And if you get to have it your way, do not be dogmatical
On Lord's day or short sway, do not be fanatical
Your political stand - they may be lyrically grand
But their wrinkly hands are devoted to the land
They voted for their future, for the man who planned
The harpoons, asylums and heroic command
Beaten, quietened, some chastened for treason
Weakened, yet smitten by the polished religion
Some find solace in the romanticist
Some are corrected strictly by the semanticist
The doubts that they place on the bioethicist
Synonymous to the darkness before the exodus
Does it matter - a neoclassicist, biophysicist, cyberneticist?
Questions remain questions - deathlike and venomous
Shot to pieces, psychokinesis,
The darker it gets, that is mutagenesis!
This is not a poem, but a quest of a churchless nemesis
What exude in the ovum was...
Fashioned in the apoapsis
-PRK-
