WHO wants to inhabit a universe
where every riddle is already solved
where every mystery's made common-place
and the power of paradox slowly dissolves?
What will be left to reach out to,
or to wonder and ask ourselves 'why'
when the unanswered questions we
argue and fight for are neglected until they each die?

WHEN we each eat our fill from the apples that fall
from the tree of the knowledge of life which we shook -
and the wonder of ages and space and of love are all
made merely entries in some scholarly book -

WHEN the last lingering question is finally rendered
a point obselete and dated and moot
and we wholesale abandon the longing to know
and discover, which brings us up out of our youth -

THEN why measure time? For the moments which pass
will be nothing but space for the boredom to fill,
unlikely suggestions of godhood will surface; and
the madman's desire to rise up and kill
will be met in our ego...we haven't begun
to be all we will be when eternity's run
finally grinds to a halt and we all disembark
and we pat our own backs as we grope in the dark.

FOR a mystery solved is a victory won and
a lost childhood dream and
a bright morning sun
urging minds, fresh awake, to embrace a new day;
hold your ignorance close, drive it far, far away.

NEVER give up on knowing nor the wonder which keeps
what we don't know before us and fills up our sleep,
For the things we can see and the things just beyond
are both captured and lost as our race stumbles on.