Boundaries
of light and darkness, Seasons
Running out of days, Experiences
That we would like to know.
Why is it with us that
We mime others, despite
The clock of unanimity which warns us
Not to store emotions
In closets of our fears, or insecurities.
Why is it with us that
Everything is dimly quiet;
Times become empty, stacked
In some old trunks because
Somebody told us
Not to open them.

And as a result
Hearts flow salty tears of despair
For the lifetime
That is disappearing.
When it could all be so different
If only we would awaken
To the tides.

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