Most microbes are starving, so
At any moment, most life
On Earth is waiting, dormant,
For the good times to visit
When they can divide and grow.
Until then, pause, and lie low.
Most ideas, likewise, exist
In a state of want, waiting,
Metabolizing nothing,
But ready to spring to life
As soon as it’s warm enough,
Soon as opportunity
Glides wide-eyed beside, as soon
As someone picks up a book.
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