Music: what so many sentences aspire to be.
People want poetry. They need poetry. They get it. They don't want fancy work.
Why should I not sit, every morning of my life, on the hillside, looking into the shining world?
And who will care, who will chide you if you wander away from wherever you are, to look for your soul?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?
We can know a lot. And still, no doubt, there are rash and wonderful ideas brewing somewhere; there are many surprises yet to come.