The myriad random movements, words and signs
Inanimate, cold blooded,hot or warm
In mystery make the world, complete, designed
From the stars at night, to needles’ eyes
Every size is present eye to horn
The myriad random movements, words and signs
Yet, not robotic, shivering, alive
Like a human baby when new born
In mystery the world is fresh, designed
So every morning we awake surprised
The dreams we had afflict us like flung stones
The random movements, words and latent signs
Are dreams the truth or can the unknown lie?
Are we subject to their nightly roams?
The mystery is the world makes its designs
As the wild geese land at one in storms
The murmurations of the starlings charm
The myriad random movements, words and signs
In mystery make the world, replete,divine
