I can't stand stagnation.
Broods of blood suckers
Bred in such environments.
Momentum is the true mana.

Sometimes I ground myself
By gazing at the earth;
Eyes averted down,
Ever reminding:
Where we came from,
And where we all go.

There are also times when
I hurl myself to Heaven.
Entranced by fantasy,
Contemplating sublimity.
I long dauntingly,
Rejecting impossibility.

In between, I just stare.
Thousands of yards
Catch my glare.
Moving forward,
Processions of the past
Herald the road ahead.
Ignoring the curves,
Looking for an end,
With each revolution
I ignore those familiar markings.

Haven't we passed that same pile of rock before?