We figure it all out then what do we do with it?
Carry it in our pockets waiting to find others who also have it.
We do not own this, nor does anyone lack it.
Everyone has their own sense of it.
You can find this in the broken,
And resting within the successful
It lays on streets of a busy city,
in the golden meadows
in our own reflection.
In the stillness,
in the silence,
in the chaos,
in the noise.