free will

in light of the falling sun cyclical burn the trees breathe easy
the cola end here as vessels;
veins from which sailors fling themselves over
to melt among the froth of nuclear fusion they float on
ready? like sperm, Lemmings
work but it does not feel right watching them fall and sink head to feet and
never once scream the searing into our ears, the selfish actors
we are peering down at them—envious: the ever green.