SOME OF US

SOME OF US

The air begins to move, the breeze becomes the wind
Then it stops
Takes a break
And begins again
Some of us caught in the vertigo cycle of stuff unsettled.

The times begin to change, old clock and new culture
Out of synch
Makes me think
Of abandonment
Some of us resembling table scraps of nothing done.

The life begins to die, as soon as it is born
One of many
Always isolated
Faking a legacy
Some of us trying to make a futile and unwanted difference.

The tomorrow comes and goes, as soon as it concludes
Always ahead
Out of reach
The will quits
Some of us looking for another substantial unfamiliar home.

Don't read into this too much ... just some thoughts about starting and stopping repeatedly.