Perhaps to the apple we are gods
Maybe ants climb the walls and wonder how we fly about
If plants have parties when we sleep
Who invites the fruit?
How far do we reach to find ourselves?
-Somewhere on the surface of the moon-
Only to pay, with dollars,
For stones already given to someone before us…
What we build from here on
And what we leave behind
Only piles to regret
Lets from now on
Build not statues of men
Not buildings to jump from
But paths to choose from
Lets from now on
Not worry of the weary
But give rest to what is new.
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