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Eyes tend to find repeating themes.
The clouds will walk while people sing.
Sometimes things are worse than they seem.

Birds were talking while people changed.
Like the corner of a fingerprint.
Slowly growing.
One long fuse, approaching flames.
Change everything and realize it.

Your eyes won’t see what your feet don’t taste.
Leave inside. Leave no trace.
None of this was ever meant to be a race.

Time will unwind confusing scenes.
The sky will talk, the earth will sing.
Now is always better than it seems.

There was a certain frame of mind
coming undone in the corner.
Moving outside in the corner.
Full of the secrets that I keep
until I fall asleep.

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