Those of us with
Feet on the ground
And our heads in the clouds
Are occasionally subject to
Towers of self doubts

If this is so, then can that be too
And what does it really do
If it has no reason or whim
Then why would it be
What value does it bring

If it is then it must be so
And it’s up to me to discover its glow
Up ancient alley I follow its trace
Down the rapid valley I follow its pace
From porthole to wormhole, a personal precious race

Sitting up in the clouds above
Nose raised above primordial slime
As if the reasons for quotidian sorrow
Abstracted, refracted, reflecting time
Will be revealed upon the ever present morrow

From Omni to omini the clouds doth gather
Till it is time for them to rain
As if the secrets of the world in sun
Will be revealed in the overflowing drain
Bound to inevitable annihilation

Quests and desires we build for ourselves
Mere reflections of what we be
Ambition that hides behind its tall shadow
Waiting for its time in history
Crouching in bide to smite the perfect blow

Can it be ever, will it ever come to pass
That the plans we lay in chaotic mass
Will rise and come into their own
Golden towers that we would have grown
Will they, oh will they ever have a life of their own…


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