2012/10/13

Spore - 2012/10/13

Floating along a breeze
Flailing as it does please
Spied by eyes of ebony black
Invisible to those who track

Gift of life so delicate
Dependent upon chance to abet
Even as it may soon be snuffed
Despite there not being enough

Yet the speck largely ignored
Knows the goal it works toward
Casting a keen eye to the horizon
Eager to meet the new force rising

It is dead and it is alive
Neither and both to survive
Posing no threat to the blind
Yet birthing salvation to find

This is a tale with no end
Every day it plays out again
The ending is belayed by choice
Between death and the bold voice

Succumb to the urge and entertain
A future of possible hope and pain
Or sit by and lackadaisically persist
Indulging your pointless urge to exist

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