we have done a million insignificant things
how easily life slips through the fingers
struggle to turn a wheel that spins in air
while the great work of man goes undone
we construct great machineries for love
and lose the sole purpose in their function
so agog in the workings of our own hands
we forget why we do things while doing it
life is gone while we are still tasting why
and all our insignificant things we find out
we did them all so hopelessly on purpose
