this hum drum existence we live
working ourselves to the bone to have the bills paid
clock in, clock out
repeat

sometimes each momemt feels magical,
each one wrapped with infinite possibility

some days, life feels like utter futility
a grind till I get to the leisure or buy the next thing
I am supposed to work myself for

I am a clog in the machine of captilism,
but I know something that makes all this
futile monotony not lead to slow death of my soul

the secret I treasure in my heart is that my worth does not lie
in my production or function.

I have value, because I have the breadth of life flowing in me.
and when my heart connects to the bredth of life in you,
then two hearts transform futility into beauty
I realize for a moment I am not alone,
that a meeting of hearts sparked hope
and transformed each other from dehumanized
objects into persons