Now it's lost forever,
Without no time to meditate on it,
For there are no flowers,
Of inspiration or self-direction,
Just a vague impetus,
To get something down on this blank, white screen,
Lest the day go by without some genius,
Which is certainly not coming out here,
But at least it's something,
Some legacy, if but only in mass,
Like the whole history of the clergy.
Or like the bomb,
I have yet to see one,
But am in awe of the earth's quantity,
And their potential for its destruction.
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