Suspended on this apparatus
Dangling, Swaying
No true sense of time
Everything being portrayed to be fine.
Fine?
No, That word's not mine?
Simply borrowed from a friend of mine.

The perfect peace ascends down
From the beautiful stratosphere.

Continually unsure of how it all works
My small contribution barely making a scratch on the surface

So why are we always wanting more?
More "space" for my "Things"
More "time" in my day
More "money" for my 'things"
More acknowledgement for my "time"
Surely we can be happier with less?
For I feel at ease barely scratching the surface...