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Description
FACT: THIS IS GOING NOWHERE

but I insist on persist
ing,de
spite the opinions of my friend.

that part one of the long story of that night went as thus:

[ ENTER :: STAGE LEFT. ]

"But what for, if not again?"
(he said to me, with a smile)
we do not live here(we live ELSEWHERE)
and so what point would it be to return?

if this
(should happen again)
this transcendence of caring (or lack of motivation)
then WE WILL CEASE TO FLOAT, AND BE LIKE RAIN.

BUT TO HELL WITH THE METAPHORS.
lets get this overwith already (quickly thus)

BECUASE LIFE IS NOT MEANT FOR STOPSIGNS.

we float by in tidal streams,
(as according to that repitive bastard the moon)

and we never see again
LIFE FROM THE EYES OF A TADPOLE

becuase us, human, and thus preoccupied
with living and living and living and fucking and reproducing and

working and creating and building guns and killing and fucking and

reproducing and working and creating and dying and starting wars and

fucking and reproducing as to some vicious
cy-cy-cy-cy-cycle-cle-cle-cle-cle,

AS HUMANS, WE ARE QUITE ATTUNED TO BEING,
A RATHER EFFECTIVE MEANS TO AN END.

BUT NOW - this as all happened already.
surely we have learned our lesson.

LOOK! TO THE WEST.
the sun is setting.

but the desert is sleeping.

if a sun sets and nothing is there to see it, does it's hydrogen still

burn?

WE DO NOT KNOW THIS, SAFELY OBSERVING FROM SOME COLONY OUT IN SPACE,
THE SOLAR FLARE.

we do not live here.
we live elsewhere now.
earth is history, dead now.

and those who do not learn from history are doomed to repeat it.

and the poets can only rule when they set down their guns.

Description
FACT: THIS IS GOING NOWHERE

but I insist on persist
ing,de
spite the opinions of my friend.

that part one of the long story of that night went as thus:

[ ENTER :: STAGE LEFT. ]

"But what for, if not again?"
(he said to me, with a smile)
we do not live here(we live ELSEWHERE)
and so what point would it be to return?

if this
(should happen again)
this transcendence of caring (or lack of motivation)
then WE WILL CEASE TO FLOAT, AND BE LIKE RAIN.

BUT TO HELL WITH THE METAPHORS.
lets get this overwith already (quickly thus)

BECUASE LIFE IS NOT MEANT FOR STOPSIGNS.

we float by in tidal streams,
(as according to that repitive bastard the moon)

and we never see again
LIFE FROM THE EYES OF A TADPOLE

becuase us, human, and thus preoccupied
with living and living and living and fucking and reproducing and

working and creating and building guns and killing and fucking and

reproducing and working and creating and dying and starting wars and

fucking and reproducing as to some vicious
cy-cy-cy-cy-cycle-cle-cle-cle-cle,

AS HUMANS, WE ARE QUITE ATTUNED TO BEING,
A RATHER EFFECTIVE MEANS TO AN END.

BUT NOW - this as all happened already.
surely we have learned our lesson.

LOOK! TO THE WEST.
the sun is setting.

but the desert is sleeping.

if a sun sets and nothing is there to see it, does it's hydrogen still

burn?

WE DO NOT KNOW THIS, SAFELY OBSERVING FROM SOME COLONY OUT IN SPACE,
THE SOLAR FLARE.

we do not live here.
we live elsewhere now.
earth is history, dead now.

and those who do not learn from history are doomed to repeat it.

and the poets can only rule when they set down their guns.