We are created in order to create
As it is, our capacity for creation is shrunken
Sunk in a sea of endless dithering
We arrive to be alert
As it is, we are madly misoneistic
Savagely clinging to what we think we want to know
We are made to marinate
As it is, we opt for the prophylactic
That keeps us from it all
We are here to be here
As it is, hubris is our heuristic
And the road ahead goes nowhere
