Spontenaity

An unrehearsed, uncomposed (until I type) thought on spontenaity, itself being spontaneous:

It has its place for sure
In this life, our life, our odd existence.
I need to know that
I don't need to know what we might do on that day.

With a place, its own space,
With a proper pocket in which to stay
We think it might however
Want the gravitas of life, this life, this strange experience. Life is

Composed of many paradoxes needing to be settled, we
Decide every minute comment se comporter;
Each fragrant grasp has in
Its heart a choice and motivation.
Respecting habit, obligation,
The choice may be spontaneous though the act may seem mundane.