The only things worthwhile in life are the one's that are running late. If the hands on the clock were meant to follow our rules and regulations why, we'd never get anything done. Anything of importance that is. But don’t get fashionable delay confused with pure nonexistence; wishful thinking and empty hope have devoured more men than most care to admit. And idle hands are not the devils plaything, but ours. When play and work coexist, we don’t have a conflict of left and right and wrong. We can have equilibrium, cohabitation between beauty and necessity. In the most basic of actions humans reach civilization, advancement. Art can be raw and conflicting, yet wean the more beautiful of what the mind envisions. In the emptiness of space where there is no war, yet no peace, there can be found the shining stars of nature's accomplishment. Nothing on earth has the ability to hold a candle to the millennia of careful and finely orchestrated forces that have spawned such nonpareil. Forged in the cold fires of space these titans have no bearing on the human race, for they are void of what one would call sentience. They are not sentient. They lack consciousness. Who are we to talk?