Two modes I know are Pressing On Ahead
Or Flying Off to somewhere else instead.
The one’s a trudge that duty binds me to;
The other’s what my soul would rather do—
Take flight in fancy to imagined skies
In hopes to grow elated, bright and wise.
This must be why we have two brains per head:
Without the prudent one we’d soon be dead;
And yet without the other we’d not rise
To find what heights a soul can realize.