The Importance of Being Observant. First and foremost we are here to observe, To watch and muse upon the ebb and flow And beat of the world. To gaze with wonder At flashes and sparks in the sky, at silvery Brush strokes of fire. If before the paint of Starry Night had Set and dried, man's hand ran over its glistening Surface, for no other reason than to Know its texture, then its purpose would be Forever gone. Man's fingers would bear The smears of guilty curiosity And distorted streaks of Van Gogh's mindful note. If I was born again in the darkest Crevice on the ocean floor, into confusing silence, To be beaten blind by the current and blackness, Then would I know my place having never seen The silky sheet of the Atlantic, whose Crispy surface and tempestuous core Humbles me? If the Babylonians had soared into The heart of the Zodiac, wielding Clubs and swords, or plucking Taurus From the night sky, only to shatter it And decorate their ears, would October babies Still be balanced, and would a nubile Leo Drown in pessimism? The only eventuality to Permit abstaining from observation, Is when man's hand strays, absently or otherwise, Towards Van Gogh's dewy canvass. To always observe, unless the observation Is threatened, or obscured by mindless action. To meet the activist with action yourself, Then lay back together and look at the stars.