Time waisted sensibly.
What one thing,
in this instance,
forgets to be helped?
Arm in arm,
eye in eye,
hand in hair,
Where for the old?
What for the present?
If ever there were many,
three or four of them,
they would liken the fact to an entirely different piece of existence.
Whatever stranger comes our way,
we liken it to a passing joke.
A fraud,
an experience,
that leaves us with egoistic stories.
Weightlessness in life,
dreams stretched out,
flattening over a surface and then inverting back on itself again.
Happiness and love are found in these folds.
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