Listen to the possibility
Of what they day could whisper
Save the dawn
Which is melancholy in its own madness
It takes every ounce of selflessness from you
Time has come up short once again
And I have nothing to offer
There is so much to pass by
You move so quickly,
Your feet disappear from under you
It means nothing more anyway
What you sow is what you reap
Isolated from that soul that never soundly sleeps.
-Jennifer Barajas
A Dead Language 