In the light years ahead of me,
My theory of relativity,
Supersedes my originality,
Leaving behind a chaotic sea.
This notion leaves commotion.
Reminding me that my options are not from totality,
But frugality.
Lie not in the entity,
But in what I am destined to be.
For the questions that surround me erratically,
I pick paths that allow me to be,
On bended knees bowing in the face of normality.
I pick options that are relatively better than all others I know,
That drip stability, and nothing more.
Certainly, there are other bridges I may traverse,
But I am too afraid to venture alone,
I cannot enter the belly of the beast on my own.
This dilemma of relativity lives on its own.
It does not care if I forget to feed it
Or breed it,
It insistently strings inanity
On its own.
Until of course I surrender,
Feeling safety in its creed, feeling comfort in the idea it seeds.
Soon I myself assist its goal.
Tethered to mundanity, a fate I myself mold.
I accept that an individual who has been arranged systematically,
Is relatively better than a possible tragedy.
This is my theory of relativity.
A ruling that supersedes a true reality,
Where I hold hands with theorized insanity.