My thoughts have been
here before. A wasteland of sorts.
Not even a seed to begin planting, much
less one more mature.
I figure if you stare long enough, you'll
figure it out. If friction in the mind is
anything like on a log.
The hot want the cool and the cool the hot.
The thinkers thoughtless and the tinkerers taught it.
The world came out of nothing, but the
successful ones always something.
At least I know I don't know.