Crisis of a Finite Earth

There will always be those
Who lash out at a world
That seems determined to have boundaries 
By creating absurdities 
That somehow create new boundaries
In the process,

And this,
This is a crisis 
Of finite proportions, 
For it ends in cycles,
Wheeling about quite madly
If also happily,
If you can forgive
The paradox,
This rolodex of woe
On this uncertain earth,
In which too much doubt
Produces misplaced certainty,
When just the right amount
Would solve,
Well,
Everything.

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