Pangloss - Intronaut

In this, the best of all possible worlds

I’m born to die

The bay ebbs and flows

Only for us to drown in

Shall we cultivate

Our garden now?

Why must we hold fast

Whilst it eats our hearts away?

And if we never find

The things we want

At least we’ll meet with something

New

Let us caress

The serpent that devours

Time is of the essence

And there’s still much to do