This swirling cosmic canvas glazed,
Crackling glimmers on the starry pitch.
This dizzying blast, creative furnace,
These splotches of insanity.

Did God, who shaped the asinine,
Splash such stochastic melting fires?
Could God, the fount of filthy swine,
Invent such blazing ghostly lyres?

These indigo pools
Of unreality?
These splotches
Of insanity?