The Same Way

What do whispering bones have to say
in this blender of life
This pulverizer
Even outer of things
off plumb
As synthesizer
This random disconsorted symbiotic stew
with a twist of mixed-together
chocolate-covered chaotic
stunning bliss
This life that is
in a machine churning, churning
What comes out
The answer is
behind door number…
One, two or three
It’s anybody’s guess
But all bones know
they’ll go the same way in the end.

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