Wrath.

From one end to the other, the sphere
Completes the circular path,
It's destiny, it declares;
Much to its own wrath.

Then comes the naming of the stories
In the restricted zones
Of my mind's library, that
Imprisons words in tyrannical tones.

The unexplained wins.
Like a statement in the guise of a question,
Hypocrisy, intensely biological;
In an attractive pursuit of possession.