Only until the day, monkeys look us in the eye...
Will we dare to jump the branches of time...
When we have to move to stay alive,
Will we act like sublime strangers
Or perhaps tonight...

When screens tell us to do something we might,
But when they lie and spill we keep our distance inside...

We don’t know our patterns
Our rivers and torrents...
Yet cling to the copper current
To the sun’s side of a sixpence...

Only until we realise our scope is too significant in size too relinquish,
Do we stare into history’s blighted eyes
And willingly join both sides,
Relishing in the surprise of our random apparentness,
Like the rare colours of butterflies in a golden instance...