As when there are already things getting done,
Until the moment of total silence,
When all the other tasks have been forgotten,
Only to come up again when there is no time.
That is the essence of existence,
Forever challenging your deepst desires,
Until you no longer show resistence,
Or until you show it,
That you cannot be caught,
Doing something you wish you weren't doing,
Because things you don't like, there's not.
And it's alright,
To play games with Life.
Why do you figure you exist at all,
If not for its delight?