Dominos

My will is not free, it’s a great work of fiction.

I am the sum of my past and the past of the earth.

Every yell in the park, every dream in the dark

Every domino falling is just a part of the picture.

The wall full of writing has a cause that it follows.

The road was less taken ‘cause the other was crowded.

Our cognitive powers are simply illusion.

When we think that we’re learning, we’re really just falling

From the cliff of eternity carved out by the wind.

But despite this inevitable fate I am set in

I reflect on the chain of unstoppable movements

And I see that this series of inflexible agents

Has created a mind which now trusts its own judgments.

How moronic this mind is to think that it thinks!

It’s merely a perpetual sorting machine

That orders this world into asinine sections

To prove to itself that its discernments are valid.

And despite these abysmal yet "logical" musings

I can’t help but feel I should call it a night.