Goldilocks

Power— even if canorous—

Is corruption— coeval to creation’s

Carnivorous compulsion

To investigate its own

Wallowing implosion— claims

To quell the exclusive excursion

As this seeker digresses across dunes

Of cultish might to worship the pleasure

Of being right,

Surrendering to a supreme

Kool-aid man

On lethal legs, a lodestar of light

With his ink pegging authority

And sweltering uncertainty

Parading as the untraceable evidence

Pointing to a lack of self-relevance:

And so the power within me

Curdles and expires—

Leeching, lurching,

Jumping over the hurdles

Of exigent mires— help my

Clauses to cause a

Common sense in volition—

Because I am not the sole origin

And you are also— beyond belief

All in the name of proving this

Embedded brief thievery is not

Too hot nor too cold to sleep in theory.