The apple doesn't fall far from the other apples.
We embark from this tree,
The same way we grow onto it,
With fear of nothing, except our own success.
Like Isaac Newton himself,
That Eureka moment,
Being in the present, far or near
And knowing the extent
Of hope being as hollow as fear
As something hovers above our heads,
Sometimes like lightning, sometimes like death.
That strange arrangement
Waiting for creation.
We embark from this tree,
The same way we grow onto it,
With fear of nothing, except our own success.
Like Isaac Newton himself,
That Eureka moment,
Being in the present, far or near
And knowing the extent
Of hope being as hollow as fear
As something hovers above our heads,
Sometimes like lightning, sometimes like death.
That strange arrangement
Waiting for creation.
