Questions

Pricking sound of loneliness
The blithe of anxious owls
Hauling mercilessly at the setting sun
Slowly whisking away the naughts of today
Should haves and could haves

Dream catchers, dream chasers
Distinction too distinct
Jagged on speed bumps slowing them down
Riding patched alleys, brooding lost rain
Lost waters, lost tears

What is use for tears
When logic is illogical and sense senseless
What is use for speed
When pace is pace-less and delay inevitable
Queues modeled into time

What is use for time
Crossed into spreadsheets unaccountable
But to tie the thin ends of a harrowing story
For a good one is endless, timeless
Time accounts are nothing but time eaters

Who marked the days
Why mark the days
Is the moon not beautiful to enjoy
The stars unreachable, unrealistic
Days lived under the sun, days lived under the moon

Days lived unaccountable
Dancing in the rhythm of bumping laughter
Reach and deep, light and squeak
Movement not counted, but felt
In the depth of your bearing, your person

Your person
Dripping with the sweetness of today
Your person
Embracing the hangover of yesterday
Your person
Soaked-up in the beat of tomorrow
Time forgotten, time lost
In the magic of living