A breath in the dark.

There might have been a breath.

Who knows?

Out of chaos

comes order,

making more chaos,

for ever.

The simplest origin

leads to the joys

found and seen

in endless repetition;

each new repetition

a new flavour

of something that came before;

only somehow slightly different -

the survival of the fittest

is enancted mostly by individuals

whose eyes are closed to these nuances.

Eyes open briefly:

the inspiration to

overcome fatigue

is often thin;

but I feel that now

I can't close them to the world.

The universe

is self-organised,

and so are we;

and so is all life.

A mirror

inside a mirror

reflects endless

patterns;

life stems from life,

stems from unlife,

stems from chance -

all odds behold a lucky winner

(or winners).

And so we find ourselves

upright and thinking -

at the whims of evolution,

whose outcomes we can never know.

Oh, yes:

the future will be beautiful;

but I cannot say

what it holds.

But I'm sure it holds

endless sonatas,

and many beautiful things

of great majesty.

Let us just hope

that destruction can be avoided;

it will happen.

But great beauty will always come

from the humblest of beginnings;

chaos is both birth and destruction:

chaos is all that will ever be.

So take your chances

whilst you can still take them,

because the chances are

that you might never get to see

rose petals.