Cracks meandering like
Rivers upon the ground,
But it's our shattered souls.
How by now we hoped we'd be whole,
Only hearths with limited coal.
When we extinguish we make no sound.

Only hearts with finite
Beats.
We're in the race but just
Want to rest,
But one slumbers and sits
In comfort when they have
Assurance.

The wind and how we
Twist chaotically with it,
Our hopes can hold momentarily
Suspended like rain in crosswinds.
But we crash down and
Are absorbed by our surroundings.