The Town breathes, you just
Need to halt and hark for a moment;
There is blood flows through its veins;
And you easily can see it; you just need
To stop for a second and see it; the town
Lives its own life whether you like it or not;
Don’t deny it; you just need to be aware of
It when your tread its paved streets next
Time; you need to understand the
Mechanism behind it; you need to
Comprehend that you are one of an
Infinite amount of particles scurrying
Around; if you just at least pretend to
Believe in it then everything will start
Peu à peu to make some sense; till Then
Once in a time cease your eternal roaming
And just listen to hear something that can
Change your life

It is a fact well known
That a snowflake In its pure and perfect form
Never resembles her near-falling sister
While all of them create a shimmering glisten,
As if of a dew-strewn meadow, but in the sky;
Hushing up the resounding far distant cry

His look is always skyward
Bound
He treads the earth, he’s not yet
Found
What’s his been looking for for years
But doesn’t he despair
Does he?
Oh no, not he;
He firmly strides th’ infirment earth
Not looking at his feet at all
For what it is to him whose looks
T’ distinguish try the Heavens’ nooks
Amidst the grazing clouds; he walks
And dreams of life up there despising
Our earthly deeds and talks,
How we scurry all life long
Around and round we know not what;
And so he always there with mind
But the soul of his is in latticed plight,
It trapped within the bonds of flesh,
And so he makes his final dash,
To ‘midst the angels be rebirth,
And so at last he leaves the earth

Have you ever noticed those
Grandmas, who stand in the middle of
The road without purpose and as if lost;
Not in the middle of a conversation or
Waiting for a bus on a stop; just some part
Of a road you would least expect it to see
Someone standing there all alone
Especially a senile woman all alone; but
There she stands inconceivable and
Baffles you as you walk by noticing her
Though only on the periphery of your
Vision; and thus your paths diverge w/out
Both of you acknowledging it; but you still
Go on and she still stands there all by
Herself; and that is the truth

It is like in a certain room to be
Alone, no windows and not even
A door;
And so you sit or even lie
There prone,
And the darkness emits
So strange an odor
Which is too hard to scorn but neither to adore;
And all you see is an unfathomable
Darkness
Which nonetheless does shine
And shimmer with all its dark brightness;
So bright it could blind you; but if you are
Blinded by darkness then could you regain
Your sight by
Shiness?

Last curtain call, to pay
last passage toll; to cross the side;
to take a ride; the future is behind us,
for we can't see it; the past is right in
front of us, for we can see it clearly;
so every step we take may be our last;
but we just want it to be fast; "Make it
Fast", they usually say; but why; we are
Afraid to cross that bridge and pay that
Toll; for we are afraid of that what awaits and
Entices us there; so we ever falter at that moment
Of transition; and never will stop;
For that mystery curtained did always baffle us
And always will