THE COIN

Heads:
From a shawl of stars
They come, whistling
Sparks sifted through the black.
They are the beads of sweat
On God’s shoulders.

Tails:
No, though they are part
Of that spark, the film
That slices their time in
The dark, this ‘is’ is the
Nature where they reside.

Heads:
A constant becoming! A sprung
Clasp in the act of springing—
That is their nature! Is is
As will and also as does.

Tails:
And did. Fair enough. Though
We can agree, what value
Are we? And what of
Their ‘fate’?

Heads:
We are mute profit. Longing,
A talisman of becoming.

Tails:
And destruction. But still,
What of fate?

Heads:
We are the messenger
They will always shoot.

Tails:
Why?

Heads:
We are their power,
Though they bequeathed
It upon us. Inscribed
Their Gods and Heroes
On our faces. Chance
Controls both us and
Them, as does will.

Tails:
We are two
Things: both Gods to men
And pawns of them.

Heads:
We are pieces of earth
Hypnotized into revelry.

Tails:
Pure Grandeur. I do
Not believe we are
Subject to chance.
What is your answer?

Heads:
I disagree.

Tails:
In that case,
I win.