I will still try and catch stray dandelion snowballs separated from a stalk like a dog in a fog
I will still greet the incandescent sticks of wax that mark every revolution I have ever seen with a huff and a puff
I will still wrestle with my eyeballs for the emancipation of errant eyelashes
All for no apparent reason (if you don't count ritual)
For I am blessed with a complete and utter total lack of ambition.