The man out of time, walking in silence along the lines.
Parallel as we all travel.
Problems inherited of decades old.

As the "out-of-place" mind progresses and becomes blackened,
he slowly becomes adjacent to reality.
Only through a kindred spirit can we find perspective.

No latency, no compounding mixtures; of facades,
or gut-wrenching quarrels of hatred and jealousy
in which are succeeded only by none.

As the man is fixed upon the stars, he only can wonder;
of what could have been and what was.
Through the eyes of the greatest beast can we feel chances of grace,
and grimace.

When the problems of our fathers' and mothers' draw near.
Conflict grows stronger between the epicenter and our devotion.
Will we truly be able to justify our existence?

The man, in the end, has to deal with crossing the river.
Looking for shadows that are under the skin of the water,
while guiding through life with no reference to measure.
Truth becomes a blur, only readable by love and spirit.