Just as the seed’s ability to create
Something as lasting as a tree does measure
The depth and quality of its fate,

So there is found within all endeavour
That curious logic by which a loom weaves
A steam engine and a birdcage begets a skyscraper.

But is it only the lunatic that perceives
In the mysteries of infinity
The elusive truth of endless possibilities?

Or, while marveling at fire’s ability
To keep at bay the darkness of the night,
Did the children of humanity

See within the embers burning bright
The distant glow of city light?