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Tunneled into Submission
Do not bereave mortality
In the quieter corners of living,
Dare to be enamored in the gall
You have to be breathing.
There's much to fret of how to be
And to what you should be giving.
And in humble tunes and subtle signs
We are spoken to in scripts.
But gaze too long in mirrors forlorn
And miss purpose hit and pass you.
Rage with the world you stand in.
So crowded is this ruined track
We dance and crawl and trudge on.
And cursed is the crooked back
That wedges our focus down and wan.
Take moment in your rigid routine
And consider all unconsidered;
Gaze upon hopeful, sorrowed sights,
And weep at what may actually may be.
