Pristine pages fall out and we're looking for the staples, finding only stitches. Saddles with no horses, backs broken all the same. The song turns, the sun dips across, and shadows cover up the kitchenette table. We've found crazy in a moteless place.
It's a selfish world, and we're all part of it. Nature is there to draw it out and leave us wallowing in our own deplorable devices and decisions.