When the faucet breaks
And the head is in the whirls
Your eyes are red from the cold
Slices of orange and pearls

Not in this am I holy
Nor in the street outside the window
Where thought is fast
And people many
No one has time for each other

Can I see through the walls of it?
Are they glass?
Am I here?
Is there simply not enough time for any of it?

How sorrowful a burden
To be plagued
With the need of proof of
A good, long life.

How short we come to where
We think we should be and
Where we actually
End Up

The cream is in the bottom of
The cup masked in sugar, in
Hard pressed facts as is the
News of the world that spins
Like an echo within a cave

Vaguely decipherable but still
A mystery still
Uncertainty

Has the feeling ever hit
You
When you see yourself in the
Mirror
And see who you really are?

The one you should be

Can be

Want to be

And the only act that disturbs
This moment
Is a footstep out of yourself

The magic in the world is
Cloaked in the infinity of
Sunlight shining on streets that
Were once dirt and dirt that was
Once covered in snow flaked grass

Soon to recover if we
Should ever choose
To abandon this place
For something better

Though talking through
These facets of formulaic
Fantasy make for dull Spring afternoons
Make for strolls through the questioning phase
Allows the mind to drift and wander when
Life itself is to drab to engage in

Silence with noise

Repetition without monotony

Heart break with heart

Tears without sobs

Death with life and life
Without
Death