One Thought, One Grace

The brain is in a dark box
Called the skull. It has to guess
From the bits and bobs of waves

Sent in from the points that touch,
What kind of world is out there.
The brain’s main job is what’s next.

So how does it do that? Past.
It fits new past to old past,
The last past to the first past,

And, not that you know it yet,
It says, this past will be next.
And what are you for in this?

You’re here for the songs and tales,
The codes that have their own past,
Old poems that said grace saves face.