So many pleasures here to burn
A scarce and sacred few were earned
The rest came around as gifts of love,
fortunate comforts, a splash from the pond
Still I grieve for the something missing
The crash of a wave as it hits the rocks
The burning sky that warns of trouble,
or the eons of time before man first spoke
So much to miss in a few dozen circlings
Maybe it really could all be ours
All we need is expanded spheres
of sentient beings, planets and stars
Be what you learn. Ride the world’s history
It all belongs to you and me
Alexander, and Ho Chi Minh,
the flow of life in deep ocean currents
The wonder of victories, deserts and wheels
Everything is our own fine meal