Every day takes more time than it ought to,
according to the science, anyway.
Two worlds, or more,
and I move in them all.
Moment by moment,
circling like a whirlpool.
Ever old and new again.
Always flowing.
There is no lack,
no fear required.
Only dynamic stasis
creating joy in its sacred confluence.
A dance more satisfying
than any fool's destructive habits.
And my, oh my,
do fools abound.
Let us sing the joy of love unperterbed
by the children seeking
To thwart the flow
of creative stasis
They will not win.
Although they seem to
From time to time.
Fear nothing.
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