Orthodoxy

Why is our universe so large?
Why is it so smooth?
Why do orthodoxies boast
behind locked doors?

Keys scattered then collected
in one of those jars, in the garage,
waiting for someone with no respect
to smash it in clearheaded rage
and try those forbidden locks.

We invent the systems we must prove,
we’re self reflexive in our groove,
a record stuck within a scratch,
the sound of eternity answering back.