It may be art and universe's natural intention to love and create life, but maybe you’re right, I'm lazy as a poet, and I give in too easily, but it’s not all sex and flowers, nectar and stamen, something tangible, a curiosity and an inquisitive mind, maybe this actually produces something beneficial, if not, that’s fine, spaceships and aliens, it’s all in good fun, poetry and the realm of air, so many dreams to ponder, why shouldn’t we run, chasing ahead, far into the distance, deep into the valley, but heart steady, like a rippling lake, we maintain our temperance, don’t let these whims get ahead of you, as free flowing as the wind and the fickle moon, to place too much faith in anything, the cold hard ground, and the ever-echoing truth, as eternities pass, if we could truly process all of this, it would still be too soon…

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