Moments of pure lucidity in life
But there is still gold and porphyry
In the hills of the brain
Though the prospects looked mostly
Dim and remote for extraction
We keep digging deeper
For the heart of the mother-lode
Is it the last of the sun
Clearing the hills we’re chasing
Our craving for distances
Our attachment to what’s here and now
While the great Now of everywhere
Goes on ringing all around us
And the little brain renews its chatter
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