After all
we're just an accident of interstellar dust
that fell to earth and formed a crust and
out of this we rose to be the cruel
man of humanity, but
each tide turns as do the stars about
the universal scheme, this accident, this
birth, this fall to earth, this dust, this
crust is but the scab we've picked
and made to bleed,
each seed in time will bloom in
the house of many mansions and yet
I have no suggestions as to the questions we must ask to find the answers to the answers that we look for, if there is a war on want then I want more than this.

The light dusting of your kiss lingers long after you've gone and this is why I go on forever in the debt of something yet I know not what
perhaps it's in the melting of the melting *** the answer lies or in the goodbye's that are not so good, so long will do for me until we meet again.