The spinning of the Earth is never interrupted for anyone. Although, faces of men whisper of experience between ideas that come undone.
Deep questions slide into all we know to be, step right in. Yet, we do not hesitate to look away, when their hours begin.
Looking back at the summer of our lives, were we supposed to hold hands? Perhaps we never tried, or merely gave up in the end.
Just another minute or two tries not too smile when reading what’s been said. We wait for justice, and then roll over playing dead.
Settling in, we do not mention lessons learned from each moment. Is this not a step towards what lies underneath our torment?
Are we running out of time and a foot behind, because we do not care? Do we only commit to that which comforts our own air?
Sometimes I doubt if we closed our eyes for a second we would see the entire picture, perhaps because, we refuse to see ourselves as we are, Imperfect Creatures.