Fool’s Day is the normal state for the multiverse.

Sitting comfortably in the gazebo, From where all Eternity is visible, Having finished fighting for the blankets, Knocking wine off the table as much as possible, Having sent the cupbearer to the cellar, Without waiting for him back — Try these beverage Any connoisseur would be glad, — Trying to find the culprits But having found no one, Deciding that there is wine enough And no more wine needed. Having accidentally burned a table, Which has stood here ever since, Like the first glimpses of the Explosion Embraced the interuniversal vastness. Having removed thunder and lightning into the Abyss, So that no more damage is caused, Arranging a spontaneous debate, Like, whether is bright or not this stars of night, Tired of arguing about nothing, Having removed the gazebo out of sight, Having sat down at the edge of the Multiverse And legs absurdly tucked in, The gods are giggling at those, Who take everything too seriously and think of meaning. Be ashamed, you boring people, and eat your Sense of Life!