Sometimes things get out of hand
And the world seems to crumble
Down, down into the ocean that is life
Deep, deep, dark and uncharted
Both distinct and plain
Like a highly embossed stationary
Blank for stretches
Bordered by fanciful gold
Just waiting to be written on
As life waits to be written
Like stationary
Not a forceful demand
Nor even a request in any way
Simply an existence
Of waiting