I suppose you all know, in no small way,
Man’s mostly H2O (some mostly spray).

If science is correct, my condition,
as reason would detect is suspicion.

So now I’m full of gas (go oxygen)
and reached the great impasse through hydrogen.

I’m growing short of hope and losing face –
through modern microscope I’m mostly space.

How solid is solid? How small is large?
Am I the pyramid or it’s mirage?

There must be some logic, seen with a glance,
that thinks subatomic and knows that dance.

Where does the body end? Where does mind start?
Around what spacious bend will I find heart?

Will my love permeate Mankind’s chorus –
No-matter what my state (or how porous)?

Toupees sometimes take flight.
They share the fate of hats.
In dream-dark sleep of night,
they’re dragged off by stray cats.

We all have our tactic.
Some take a long calm walk.
Some may go galactic,
and some make silly talk.

For me, I’d feel life fair,
and perhaps even sane,
if I just had more hair
to help deflect the rain.

There is a place not new,
where I go to be whole,
where past is on review,
and future can unroll.

I see they do connect,
at least that I have found.
Some urge, yet are suspect
(old thinking holds its ground).

The good deserve a ride.
I mix it with new ways,
and hope it will provide
a calm for stormy days.

While fishing in this stream,
prudence becomes an art.
It fortifies my dream,
with whispers from my heart.

I feel that I will find,
in all this subtle flow,
there is much more to mind,
than Man may ever know.

Take care. Our thoughts are seeds.
Our actions they define.
The content of our deeds,
can torture or refine.

The wise say we must learn.
No doubt this saves much pain.
But I think we must earn,
then harvest what is sane.

Chocolate is the way
to make desserts supreme.
“There’s more to love”, we say,
as we enjoy ice cream.

Now eating without shame
is just the thing to do,
yet there’s another game –
to lose a pound or two.

We non-thins do agree,
that science should create
a weightless calorie,
to populate our plate.

Yet scientific treats
won’t make our will-to-slim
combat our love of sweets,
so we can all be trim.

We need to know the knack,
to carefully eject,
the heavy from the snack,
to host that slim-effect.

Here’s to our search for light,
to joyfully discern
why pants are getting tight,
and when we must adjourn.