Should the world crumble,

Upon the stand of a falling clock?

Even if he ate the moon,

Why are the currents different?

Pulling every way,

But which way is the right one?

Or are all of them wrong,

And we are just blind,

Roaming in the darkness,

With our hands in front of us.

And feeling down,

Can also be up,

In some world;

That may be slightly parallel.

But if they are parallel then what is the original?

Or are we all just paralleled inside something that isn't complete?

And all our decisions aren't yet made,

So therefore we must be split even more,

Into something almost opposite,

But not quite.

And into something,

Very much,

Like ourselves.

Can we begin to comprehend the hypothesis,

Of Life?