Think back
To old school days
When everyone
Was caught up in survival
Even boredom
Had its niche
And think back
To days when
The windows all were open
And the outside world
And the inside world
Were blended-
Things connected then
Irony is each day among us
Sometimes we notice it
Sometimes not
How do we remain
On a path that is
Moving us forever upward
What if we simply want
To jump off?
The life that I have known
Has been full of
Secondary promises
It lacks momentum
It's too spread out
And un-focused
Yet if forced to
Consolidate
And make improvements
It might find itself
At a loss
Gazing outward
I see a fence
About to collapse
Beyond the fence
A building is going up
A perfect analogy
Of the modern world
An artist looks and draws
He paints a picture
The picture seems alive
But only if
The artist himself
Is also alive
God leaves us alone
At our request
We make our own way
We believe in the rightness
Of our endeavors
Even when we're wrong
Of all the people
In all the world
Throughout history
Why did no one
Stand and ask
Why?
How close can you be
To someone
And not know
Their greatest fear?
What drives the wind
Is it self-generating?
Or is someone exhaling
Across the flat plains?
To old school days
When everyone
Was caught up in survival
Even boredom
Had its niche
And think back
To days when
The windows all were open
And the outside world
And the inside world
Were blended-
Things connected then
Irony is each day among us
Sometimes we notice it
Sometimes not
How do we remain
On a path that is
Moving us forever upward
What if we simply want
To jump off?
The life that I have known
Has been full of
Secondary promises
It lacks momentum
It's too spread out
And un-focused
Yet if forced to
Consolidate
And make improvements
It might find itself
At a loss
Gazing outward
I see a fence
About to collapse
Beyond the fence
A building is going up
A perfect analogy
Of the modern world
An artist looks and draws
He paints a picture
The picture seems alive
But only if
The artist himself
Is also alive
God leaves us alone
At our request
We make our own way
We believe in the rightness
Of our endeavors
Even when we're wrong
Of all the people
In all the world
Throughout history
Why did no one
Stand and ask
Why?
How close can you be
To someone
And not know
Their greatest fear?
What drives the wind
Is it self-generating?
Or is someone exhaling
Across the flat plains?
