Bio-liturgy

I weep for the world because the world does not weep,
The secrets I keep, I keep only to speak
On the rare occasion,
we knick the artery with Occam's razor
The beard is cut and the face is grave,
and the grace is gone.. finally we embrace the change,
And negate the good along with the bad,
we blame the goddess entropy for doing her duty,
usefully killing, euthanized smiles,
it takes less to frown so let's pick our battles,
with blanker expressions, avoiding the trifles,
attaching our microscopes to our rifles,
we kill what little warmth we have with cold medicine,
and exterminate our biases with extreme prejudice.

Bifocals harness the power of our step-father the sun,
lay waste the sick with the medical
and set fire to sages and monks with our spectacles.
The audience cheers for the bread and the games,
the universe; infinite and obvious, is up for debate.
Wearing the emperor's clothes with millstone neckties,
the floor of the sea will rage against the sky.
The tide screams wildly for it's bleeding satellite,
the men in the ocean scream bubbles "you have no right!"
To complain is the job of the sage set ablaze,
you witness his face under lenses of strength,
time is our god and the sun is her servant.
Smile on our storms and sinking ships, dear Lord bless!  
justice is but a trite name for success.
If she spins the hour glass in its head we deserve it.
We need not exist as servants of dawn,
we have our truer freedom in the bonds of a pawn.
The option-less cogs, in nature's machine,
inhale the stark freedom of the factory walls!

Our god is invisible, his law is unbroken,
if only you'd refuse to believe then you'd know him!
Our goddess knows nothing, no wisdom is in her,
she is process, she is conquest, she is scissor.
My goddess decreed with a left hand of ruin,
Thou shalt not correct confect or be confluent.
Those ruinous hands of time rend to mend,
yea, the strong shall inherit the weak for their bread.
We darkened our eyes to black out the sun,
the mind shall be dulled 'till painful reason is shunned,
return gentle strokes to the soft hand of nature,
worshiping sex puts odds in our favor.
Scream hallelujah! Survive! Extol your fair walls worship your chains!
Rejoice ye machines, and blessing your maker, you shed tears of joy to the alter of labor.

Thou shalt always put the lord thy god to the test.
Thou shalt always remember to always forget.
Ye children of men, shake the hands of time!
For time is your maker and your maker rolls di,
pi is your essence, you are 1 in 1 trillion!
A perfect specimen of death's lack of resilience.
For death grows weary under time's watchful breath,
and sooner or later death will come for death.
Remove your shoes bless the holy ground!
For all ground is the womb, in the tomb is rest found.

Give thanks to the Lord for she is good,
she made metal from bombs and crafts trees out of wood.
She starves weak harshly and blesses the strong,
she blows breath in the virus and by breath he forms lungs.
She makes water from oceans, hammers planets from fire,
calls light to her fists and lightning to mire,
and out crawl we few!
The best of the worst, rage against the potter, the clay, gay with mirth!
The heart of a beating, irreducibly complex,
ignore the impossible, the odds kiss our lips.

Trudge on great mystery! Hold fast to the dice,
the sand of the hourglass keep you through night,
Disfigure earth for your metal, demolish the womb,
scrape the sky with your structures, your bride needs a groom,
Sleep in the fire, awake to hunt stars,
attach rifles to telescopes, snuff the light for the cause!
Together we row the river of chance,
we be but DNA, and to its rhythms we dance.
Or rather, March! To the drums of a ruthless nature,
we pray thee, kill the weak and give us your favor.
The kingdom of earth suffers violence, so it's violence we savor,
we pawns of the chessboard, find freedom in labor.