Not On A Mission

Oh, why, why are you here?
To stop tracks from tracking?
To open an umbrella over unified action?
To signal the end of ends?
To delay, demur, defang?

Purposes emerge with or with
out a prompt, a vision, a view.
Sensations dictate, sense takes
notes, never the twain be seated.
Where; what; are these the cryo
generic keys to how?

Sit, arts, in the metal chair
under the bare lightbulb
stern-faced, unyielding,
and wait out the wise
as they beat themselves
silly.