When first I met enchantment in the grace
Which shone upon me when I caught your gaze
And, marvelling at the music of your voice,
Denied my heart its right of sovereign choice,
I wondered at the confluence of choice
That had produced you in its random dance.
How many aeons long without our kind
Did evolution prosper without mind,
Experimenting blindly without plan
Until the brief appearance of our clan?
How many aeons more would then expire
To bring us to the point where we aspire
To step outside the sphere by nature bound
And venture to a place as yet unfound?
For us, whose tiny portion we may wrest
And hold a generation long, at best,
There is no other option than to strive
To fabricate, whatever fate contrive,
A life of harmony which sweetness casts
Amid eternity, which ever lasts.
Though all of time was thus required for this
To bring us to the state that now we share,
Its course is stopped for us in endless bliss
Should we but find the fortitude to dare.
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