As I'd imagine, would be eternal,
somewhat infinite
If such a pleasure existed
Would not all delve into wandering hunt?

Can finding be so easy
as to search something into existence?
Perhaps we are barred such by our existential
inferiority that even perceptions of secluded wonders escape
our shorthanded inquisitions

As we linger in the potency of misdirection,
so closes the curtain that shields the unknown respite

Sans sleep