How many are out there, when the sky turns gray,
where does the heart remain,
the fear in our mind,
in the quiet of an angry world,
how do we all come to terms with that reality,
the personality of peace.
We all seek that solace,
no matter the denial, beyond the circumstance
suggests we can belong inside this melting lava of judgment,
seems everyone does want some time to cool off,
we plod on,
build the walls around ourselves,
that will prevent the leak,
that could envelop our soul to such a dire degree,
it no longer matters if we believe in freedom,
that kite has flown,
yes it is a pretty sight,
so tangible as the sky does drift its matter into eternal waste.
Would we really call it disposable justice
to recognize we might all feel it.
There on the horizon, we wake to look at the sky,
if a storm looms, we immediately recognize
the nature of our lives is out of our control,
we fight that truth with every fiber in our body,
there is always the truth, when suddenly
we become lost in the translation of our it is,
we might even breathe another gasp,
instead we pretend we are beyond this mortality.