By, Sean Frank
Time is a distillation
An act of creation
Familiar faces and moments
Come in rotation
As we search for
The same old
And brand new
Forms of elevation
Steps in step
With everyone else
Treks that wreck the trail
And drain the well
As our thirst swells
And our hunger rises
The dynamic monotonous
Drone
Flows so effortlessly
Conversations swirl
And ride the whirlwind
Topics have their limited range
But the subtlety grows with age
We can say so much with so little
The weather becomes
A declaration of angst
And current news
Becomes a bewilderment
Of the day and age
Oh, how the same old
Same old
Can coyly change
But nothing changes
Or is it just a cruel trick
After all
We live with the same ticks
Tacked onto different skins
We wear as we tear through
The day
How our perception
Weighs us down
We see so much
Understand so little
But the big picture
Can really be understood from
Days where we seemed to
Simply exist
Oblivious
To the matters of the mind
As our souls vibrated
In perfect communion
With the world outside