Maybe there's no answer here
At least one we're ready to hear
No string of words will satisfy
No simple equation to edify us


Here, in the meantime
May questioning nurture life


Fear is illogical math
An impractical skill to have
Still, we talk of our future till we have no voice
We'll try to outsmart it with noise


Here, in the meantime
May the unknown harvest life


We're conditioned to mourn our empty glass
Long before it ever poured out our past
Though our patience is always in short supply
We'll leave our farsighted worries behind
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Here, in the meantime
In the gospel of near-sight
May we learn to live a nourished life