The Puzzle can’t be solved
If the pieces keep changing;
Morphing, transmuting,
Image rearranging;
But here I sit once more—
Every day, ‘tis so,
Silently contemplating
Things I 'know' I know…
The answer is simple, plain;
Though not for you and me;
Because, in a funny way,
The Puzzle is Humanity.
I will never solve this Puzzle;
It just doesn’t work that way.
Far too many pieces,
Fashioned from wet clay.
We are the pieces, mud,
And you never can tell,
How they interact today…
But the game you must play...
Until the bell should bray:
And broken is the spell,
That animates the clay...
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