Days burn away, but the star burns too,
Planets smolder out around.
Everything spins and flies somewhere,
Where the Word commanded.

I plan at random, as if it were I,
I flail, I stumble, I find.
Being will not be limited by me —
After myself I will bear heirs.

Whatever the optimist and skeptic quarrel about,
They did not live in vain in the sparks.
They tangled in formulas of arithmetics,
But together they served Ideas.