The world’s a knot of tangled schemes,
A labyrinth built from broken dreams.
Ockham’s razor, sharp and bright,
Slices through illusion’s blight.

In shadowed halls, the Church amassed
A maze of rules that could not last.
The plague unmasked what words obscure:
When hunger reigns, what prayers endure?

Now lithium fields burn cobalt skies,
While children choke on profit’s lies.
“Progress” masks the same familiar crime—
The future sold for a fleeting dime.

We forge new tools, yet still obey
The fools who trade our lives away.
Efficiency? A gilded noose—
The more we speed, the more we lose.

Complexity—our gilded cage—
Turns crises into helpless rage.
Leaders obfuscate, invent, and evade,
As species fade; nature’s debts go unpaid.

Our food rides atop petroleum streams,
Rotting in the maw of profit-driven dreams.
Simple acts—repair, reuse, reduce—
Are drowned out by greed’s unchecked abuse.

Hospitals gleam with plastic waste,
A sterile world of needless haste.
The cure is clear, the path is plain:
Prevention first-not profit’s gain.

Suppose we stripped the world to bone,
And faced the limits we have known.
No need for myth or grand design—
Just live within the Earth’s true line.

Ockham whispers: “Cut away
The noise that leads your soul astray.
What’s left, though humble, is more than enough—
Life can be simple; no need to be tough.”

So let us walk the razor’s edge,
Forsake the maze and make our pledge:
To take no more than Earth can give,
And fight to let the future live.