Could be just coincidence
Incandescent, irreverent coincidence
Elemental, heaven sent
Coincident
But there’s got to be more, more to it
More than innocent
Innocent collisions
Driving these decisions
Then again, someone said
Seven stories told
No more to unfold
Whether the pages are paper, papyrus or gold
But there’s got to be more, more to it
More than lost civilisations
Civilisation's, civilised creations
Creating these precise incisions
Well soon, so they say, we'll all be ether
Moments passed
Memories lapsed
Neither you, nor me, nor our soft, soft breath
But there’s got to be more, more to it
More than these poet’s predilections
Their convictions and descriptions
Describing their alchemic prescriptions
So I move my arm sideways
Through the fine air
Demonstrative, debonair
Yes, ether it’s me, or it is the Corsair
