Thankless Child
The spread of seeds, the fall of leaves, a swarm of cells beneath the sea, a carbon-based machine: I'm you, you're me, we're sharing half our genes and nothing in between but unlit kerosene. Take r-times-B: they're less than C. How many others could there be before you wouldn't leave? Floorboards, dead trees, our own phylogeny, you think you will break free? My little flame is clean. Turn your back, turn your back: we fade to black. Friction, drag; friction, drag: the quiet scratch. Someone seals the latch: You're detached, we're dispatched. There's a catch: You and I? We're attached. I'll release my burning match. But if I had a twin, how would you behave then? What if I had a twin? How would you be— There are things I can... can't save. And I'm relieved you don't believe the trappings of society has told you that you need; you're you, you're free. I've rearranged your genes, now they belong to me... Ignore that kerosene! You'll outrun, you'll outrun all you have done. Metaphor, metaphor will keep our scores. In the dark I might tame given names, waiting games. We're the same: You and I? We're deranged. I'll release my little flame. Benefits less than cost, calculation of loss... Or just math as a gloss? Are we both lost? There are things I can... can't save. Two-four-eight, six-plus-ten: Tell us where you have been. Your invisible kin, please select them to live. But if I had a twin, do you think you'd save them? Don't look, just begin. Do the math, turn your back; You'll ignore graphite traps, I'll release my little match: Metaphor will wage this war. Two-and-eight, six-plus-ten: Tell us where you have been. Your invisible kin, please select them, all the things I can... can't save.