Something has changed. Always, things change, not seem to
Nor feel like, but do, change.  In this grasp of feeling that, no those,
Changes, there are questions that come, come with it that mean so
Much today and mean so little when the thinking is changed again.

Each day there are so many things that remain the same, only to change.
The wind, the weather, the sunlight rips across the sky, making life hot,
Only to be replaced by the rains and the torrent of falling from the sky,
With winds blowing birds, people, white papers and blue.

The sun sets at five thirty today, five thirty two tomorrow, and it
Comes up on the like, but never the same schedule, and each
Minute, though sixty seconds of time, seems different and changing,
Minutes adding up to hours, hours adding up to days, never the same.

The food that is eaten, the touch of romance, the hatred of feeling,
The time of solace, and prayer, or thinking that makes each one
Feel they want to be a part, of this ever-changing world that makes
The solid one snap and break, the weak one be strong, the heart, beats on.