Wasted monuments stare down at what we do.
Generations past may have cared.
Now stony gazes marvel at marble stares.
Barely noticed by the times I lightly tread by.
My footsteps leaving impermanent prints in the fresh icing of snow.
Ludicrous next to the impertinence of stone.
Fleeting beauty is deeper than everlasting glare.
New tracks are left every day. I let them lead me astray.
No sense of direction takes you interesting places.
Leaving intentions of returning at the starting point, you always win the race no matter where you finish.
Every day is a triumph over nothingness.
I forgot when I woke up. So many sleepwalkers nurse delusions of glory and future in their heads. How come I am so much more awake than most, when my favorite pastime is sleeping?
I listen to things people say in dreaming, awake blabber is of little value. Stuck in a dark room, no TV or street noise dictating your thoughts, what is left on your table?
I lack a spoon, but because I can use my knife as a fork, it's half as bad. Can your watch tell the temperature? Did you teach your cups to talk yet?
As I pass the statue of a lionesque dog I wonder what miracles that creature performed to deserve immortality.
And if God does exist, why does it matter if they're wrong?"And if you swear that there's no truth and who cares, how come you say it like you're right?"
