Status: coming, gradually.
Vanishing Point
Can't life just be
What we desire secretly?
Or is it in stone,
written at a bishops thrown,
that we must groan
for everything we own?
Or is it in pen,
etched by superior wise men
who again and again,
play hard and unfair to win?
Maybe we could step over the track,
away from the cave and it's pitch black,
Just to see what we lack
And maybe to change back
before our life splits like a sand crack.
Just to find the joint,
Where our lives cross like an elbow joint
and our road finds its VANISHING POINT.
What we desire secretly?
Or is it in stone,
written at a bishops thrown,
that we must groan
for everything we own?
Or is it in pen,
etched by superior wise men
who again and again,
play hard and unfair to win?
Maybe we could step over the track,
away from the cave and it's pitch black,
Just to see what we lack
And maybe to change back
before our life splits like a sand crack.
Just to find the joint,
Where our lives cross like an elbow joint
and our road finds its VANISHING POINT.