Many Worlds Theory

[Note: I actually dreamed this poem the other night, in its basic form. That is, it was 75% composed while sleeping. The other 25% was tweaking the grammar and so forth. Unlike Samuel Taylor Coleridge, no opium was used.]

Your story is a trilogy,

3 ponderous volumes, really—

The 1^st just a farm, and a knife,

The 2^nd the slag of your life.

But the 3^rd.  Alas!  It appalls. 

Therein you stare at waterfalls

And so then with sheer force of will,

You attempt to stop and distill

Permutations of molecules,

Holding them immobile, as jewels,

The entropy stagnant but blurred:

Just so you can consume the 3^rd.