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The world came to be. It was unbeknownst to me that we got here last.

He then spoke and said, “Before you are blown apart, tinker with your art.”

I was so confused. A child sees the box booms. I can feel sons’ moons.

I traveled to lands— lands I knew, more I didn’t. I only found land.

I then felt alone on my journey through myself. Still only questions.

Why must you probe us? The secrets of my species are not kept up there.

I can’t be his god— my mind’s been there and back, Easel been through hell.

I traveled to trees— nothing is forbidden there. Here...you can’t be black.

I mixed hate and love; each place, I explored my heart. I crafted my soul.

He then heard my soul, he frowned and said he was hurt “What you’ve done missed it.”

I gathered the force, we confronted the creature. We asked, “What’s our doom?”

With my soul in hand, the creature laughed and pointed. He looked toward our hearts.