12th April '10
The mundane you do through life, you love, you laugh, you cry, you worry and you think yeah you are living. And you’re probably right!
The truth is this writing has no purpose.
Maybe it’ll gain perspective as it evolves, but I wouldn’t pin up the hopes too high.
Some hours are empty, but so full of thought
Some days are busy, but so void of thought
It’s thought that you can maybe grasp
It’s the day which you can almost not catch
It’s the hours which rain
All the way down to the base of a stationary Sand Clock