So many of us have cycled through your body,
Each performing madly for our supper,
Vendors of our souls, that you might prosper,
Embracing you for love, but also money.
Nor could we see the price we paid for plenty,
The tides collecting all we had to offer,
Years of grace, of which we were the grantors,
Feeding as you fed upon our frenzy.
In good faith we took our sustenance,
Viscera pretending to be brain,
Even as you took from us our glory,
Yielding more than we will ever know.
Embodiment of some long-severed sense,
Agent of a will no will can tame,
Regent for some still-evolving fury,
Sail on, to where no one of us will go.