Through a frosty window, struck a young man's mind;
A vast future, with no sights of behind.
With no parcel, or letter telling of the such;
No god in guise helping distinguish ever so much.
Only through the soapy dishwater, did this boy see,
A reflection of life, which strikes anyone with great glee.
Through only the roots, of a knowledgeable plant,
Did this young boy find, an answer at hand.
For there was no direction, in particular to travel,
As he could not go into the sky, or go into the gravel.
But he could only go around on the sphere of life,
Or even dig into the center of this no more bitter strife.
Even though his life was not the center of attention,
This sign did give a proper future mention.
So this young mind, struck with awe,
Kept his eyes out the window, almost as staring at a macaw.
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