Chair in a Rhomboid

Sometimes, I feel like it’s criminal,
That a world of light this beautiful
Should have troubled itself with life

And all the deaths that result.
I know this isn’t rational,
That only a human can be criminal,

That only this one species
Among however many millions
Would choose to praise or curse

Experience in terms so social
And rooted in our own rituals
Of blame and appreciation.

Still, sometimes I find this beautiful
That a natural world this criminal
Could send morning through a window.