day, a fabrication
by one who made the space and time scheme
a sound back of occurrence
wraps up mutually every part of the theme

hereabouts with thoughts sparking the mind's screen
shows senses are nevermore alone
like a projector expressing a film
sentience zigzags with a one

back before the big-bang bursts a baby
a cognizance nibbles at itself
a big bird hovers over the hollow mess
presence to express

but, puny insect-like beings
big-brain the very makeup they live
refusing to acknowledge
of being more than an accidental hive

a mite of them once arrogated
a sophist answer to explain what's 'to be'
to dump all notions of a presence
what remains is humanity

a squeaky scientist lately stated
our infestation shouldn't be here at all
we are only a random horizon
no more dignity than a hole