In a circle, slowly spinning.
Like it was in the beginning.
Gravitation shapes formations,
Disks of dust make for creations.
One is barren, one is bare.
If one's just right, we might appear.
But what's just right for you and yours,
spinning molten iron cores,
Might not match another's wish
For existance in the Her peitri dish.
Living life with one eye open
You see the world as slightly broken.
Open up both of your eyes,
Perhaps you still can be surprised.
The odds are astronomically against
All we are, in a certain sense.
So take the chance to play or ponder,
perhaps then, you may grow fonder
For this chance that you've been given.
And begin to start truly living.
Love it, Dimo.
Not bad, for a non-poet.