platytudes

no time like the present
and the present is a gift
don't you know
and the altitude of ego
diminishes as days
collect as counterparts
into ever-expanding
into on and up
into off again and the why of it all
into something less than we have
but satisfied nonetheless

happy enough to burst
through the ceiling, through the clouds
to the stars, to the constellation rotation
to the crazypeople who hide
among the asteroid belts

and who would guess their existence
when so confined by science
in silence only, we know
what a moment
is truly worth