The sounds, small and inconsequential to the reality of now
Just a passing picture of perfection that I clearly cannot see
Another hazy memory, a dream
What is this feeling? This state of being, of mind?
A classification of nothingness, or undefinable nothing; in a way that something can always mean nothing
Perhaps we stumble and fall through the cracks of the sidewalk, the pavement, escape the steps that lie just ahead
Those pathways that stare at us, concrete square faces that mock us, in an all-knowing fashion, because of course, we’re the only ones that are ever blind
So we fall instead of bravely continuing the journey, whether reeling from glances of maturity, or proudly listening to the tiresome humming and nagging
“This is life! This is the way things must be!”
Thought us all but said no one ever.
I am grateful for kite flying. ❤