I'm just a poet, I hear the spirits cry, born of the earth and fire, they must move on, their energy must flow, to what, causes our spirits to move, the birds sing, for the sunshine, the spring, such lovely music, the bees, and their honey, the ants marching, what do cockroaches look for, opportunity, and the old beasts, they seek something more fulfilling, meat and flesh, or maybe they seek the good in the world, and a renewed spirit, we must all go, and dance to the tune, be honest with ourselves, fall where we may, but our spirits will live on, the world will remember me, even, if the ocean consumes me.

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