Continually, the fabric wears
Very sheer, and then it tears.
To stop it before it gets to this
Would be to find it's very bliss.
It's seen that time, Don't you know?
If only it could cease to grow
If it could only lie there still,
Perhaps we wouldn't need to kill.
Robert Lloyd Palmer
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/matrix-2/