An evil anvil that shapes us apes

Watching the paths of the stars in their dance

And wondering what trails would they trace

In times when darkness is not enough to show

The blessed and cursed cosmic flow

A Universe that spins

Between good deeds and sins

The pen might be mightier than the sword

But the word is weaker than the mind

Which I find thinner than the world

A world that bows to the sword

Of evil lords of hordes

Thus does the pen hold the blade

And thus is that it cuts itself with it