Is not vision.

What we have cannot be.
This universe of spin theory.
And once you stop you may fall down.
That will lead to permanent frown.
Though do not fret and start to fear.
All that stands can grow my dear.

Words carved into porous stone.
On wings of ash they were flown.
Brought down from the deity sky.
Ancestors even waved the angels bye.
So question this and fall from grace.
Then wallow in the void of space.

A darkened pit within a cave.
At no point will you feel brave.
It sucks the light right out your chest.
Then spits you through to be compressed.
Not to call it an end to life.
In truth it is general suicide.

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