Growth continues to ebb and flow.
The task becomes predicting where it will go.
Some say up, others say right;
Both are governed by sleep each night.
Our calculations may bear fruit;
Our hopes may even sprout roots.
Yet, despite our clever games,
Our life presses onward unfazed.
Our present flames are frozen and mounted in picture frames.
So, what do we stand to gain from this cyclical game,
When every night sleep reminds us that nothing will remain?