tis but a small speck

...and so it goes trudging trudging like refugees into the dim dusty uncertain future, weeping on our sleeves hearts in hand hoping beyond the horizon for redemption and salvation our faith severely tested patience worn thin our world slowly deflating like a bad tire poisoning the food chain leaving our thoughts aflame amidst the wonderment of such nonsense where is the divine intervention to stop it? aarrgh except there's no divine anything just the two brain cells left out and directed to procreate and nurture a lucid dream of affection