What with the possibility of predicting the future
Via who I'm going to be
There is a temptation to forget the nature of the days
Who have hidden themselves as little building blocks
Of the type of person I could become
And yet these blocks are the pixelations of the entirety
Of a life I could live
With their sleeps and dreams
Cookings and meals
And the splendor of motion
Or the boredom of flourescence
The discovery of reading and writing
Or the drudgery of meeting and its plurality
Thus, might I hope for a going on
A procedure of habit
That leads to leading to
A continuation of the things that are wonderful
As time is experienced in real time
And not according to proper nouns
Roman Ryan 