Weird to think I have karma, this nest by the river, a cookie crumbles, where I happen to stand, and what happens outside of my vision, because it’s natural, and we are just men and women, I don’t care to think, but these are my strings, the heavens already know, my interests, and what I care to defend, it would be nice, to be a carefree poet, a fisherman, or a humble person, content to work construction, maybe a shopkeeper, a ghost, or a salesman, could be a network technician, under the night sky, content, as others find satisfaction, hoping to find peace as a virgin, feelings weighed and measured, the truth echoes, the heavens know, my character set, and it would be nice, to find solace with nothing, just air, an emptiness of feelings, barely anything, and everything, each with their echo, it’s all justified, and it’s wrong to struggle, dreams and their worth, effort and their satisfaction, whatever is a safe answer, of course I care, but I'd rather not look, the eye of Sauron, it really is weird to look directly at it, my ghost passes, peace be with you, brothers and sisters, so much yearning, pie, and what can happen, the heavens allowing what they can, a person, returning to nothing, a poet, always dreaming of the impossible...

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