Since realising that it was possible,
I only heard the outcome to be impossible,
From what we understand all days are weeks,
The weeks are therefore seconds which pass,
Silently amassing their comfort proud passing,
Sought the recognition of the Universe thereof,
While running in circles could I not enforce,
That the only power ought I have be the force,
Shun me through the stars encompassed lay,
That all mice do travel through the stars relay,
Alas how they to the tiniest ant can truly rally,
Muster their courage to attack their prey behind,
For I alone now walking in this temperate rainforest
Finally realise these ants that ought to be my hand,
Replace so; that replace me and peers with they and mice,
For mine Happiness ought be withstood, but slowly vanishes,
At long last after my session in drinking did my patron say:
That the world passes us by and beneath our feet full production lie;
As were our thoughts content did not my heart proceed.

Mysterious, Nature, Poetry, Works
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