Sometimes I sit and ponder time’s vast expanse
As my mind wanders over what was or could chance,
Wondering where I’ll be when life’s done its dance,
Fancy and long, and I’m off to a new dance.
As Caesar fixed the calendar in candlelit tent,
Did he think of our time and its content?
Did he wish to outlive the Ides’ portent
To see horses turn to metal skillfully bent?
Well I do. I see the chips shrink to pack more power.
And the possibilities aplenty like spring flowers
Spring from each searching mind, building towers.
Oh I do! I crave the mystical MacLeod power.
But I fall back to reason’s shocking bed:
No magazine on fancy topics new or read
Nor TV show can make a waiting room grand,
So must life be boredom if there’s no end!