Life is but a passing daydream,
that seldom does make sense.
I often wonder if I should wake,
what memories carry hence?

Yesterday a fuzzy recollection.
Tomorrow a cloudy ocean.
Today as clear as clear can be,
as preconceived as any notion.

Understanding is sometimes found,
when clarity meets truth,
but its hard to say if it was real,
once time and space have moved.

Life is lived by a routine,
that seldom ever varies.
My thoughts are often found,
where routine seldom tarries.

I awake some days to find,
the yoke of expectation
****** upon my shoulders
without want of explanation.

Hours of those days grind by,    
in meaningless frustration.
Watching my potential pass,
while occupied by occupation.

The yearning to be free,
that stirs within my soul.
Is gently lulled asleep again,
by pastimes I am sold.

Life is but a passing daydream,
that seldom does make sense.
I often wonder if I should wake,
what memories carry hence?