Psychologie de l’univers

The universe is a psychopath on which we fleas
Are hitching a ride – had you thought of that, smarty? -
Lees in the bottle that do not please,
Result of the impurposive wrath
Of nothingness, that other arty psychopath,
Violent, mindless, heartless, soulless, with the endless
Cunning of chance (as it were, as it can’t, as it hasn’t
Even a peanut of brain to guide it,
However superbly apposite its beautifully timed
Destructions),
Kneading us
To lusty handfuls and fardels born
Of dust
Before, or after, the battle
You cannot hope to, though you’ll forever hope to
Win,
However you saint,
Sly, cheat,
Or sin,
You’re beat,
Or I ain’t
Smarty.