It is those hours as a child,
as a young romantic,
in the throes of a miscreant’s goal,
when time seems forever, to be still, to not move,
to shadow the moments ahead,
it is in those quiet seconds of reality,
we seem to venture forth to discover our resilient nature.
Is this a valuable tool in defining our
human condition,
or are we simply running our lives by
the second hand of our existence.
For it is a question of time.
Imagine from a distance, a scene of motion
Constantly moving parts all drawn together
Each glance seems similar surrounding itself
Concrete and asphalt are crawled upon walls
~
Eyes never venture close enough to realize
The actual notions that will intermingle
With token reprisals of driven energy
All labeled some aspect of our humanity
~
Yet out here from some safe distance
Among the stars and distant galaxies
A certain peace exists with little scrutiny
Beyond a passing meteor; chunks of reality
~
If life were meant to be a painful reminder
What visual reason exists beyond our normal
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