The tiller turns the turgid soil
leaving the land in lines
that erase the one between torture and toil
The skin will burn, blister, boil
The back is bent and brutally breaking
-all for a small reserved residual
Hoping to afford that final failure of
an unlived ease and missing miracle
The facts all prove that we'll never truly succeed
Despite all efforts, intentions, or any noble deed
as there's no way, nor why, nor how
in any facts to which we'd bow
and nothing in the soil of science to serve the spiritual
-except the fact that some have failed into a miracle
The mathematician turns magician
with a winning ticket in his hand
He screams "EUREKA"
from another dimensional position
-one between his dream & where he stands
He knew the odds were merely mythical
But his numbers let him fail into a miracle
See wise men frown at fools that mock with grinning faces
Watch 3-toed sloths out-run turtles and put rabbits through their paces
Witness cowards counting countless conquests
as the virtuous are denied their ever valorous requests
This gravity of a world so dizzying and spherical
can crush the light into something spinning and cynical
Burying all that fails to fall into a miracle
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