Heartbeats in sync with the demanding sounds of war drums,
Inhales and exhales synchronize with the hypnotizing ticks of life’s time bomb,
Teardrops make the skin potent with more salt than that of the sea,
Humans scramble across the face of the earth seeking for meaning faster than my pen across the paper seeking relief from my thoughts,
The spirit declaring war on the flesh with more fury than mama bird defending her nest,
The angels surrounding you with swords drawn ready, awaiting the command.
It’s called everyday life, Sunday through Saturday and all the way back again.
It’s not the fairytale that mesmerize the innocent
Nor is it the nightmare that paralyzes the anxious.
It’s the mundane the bores the crowd.
No permanence, no promises, no guarantees
but you’ll be in luck if you require surprises, fluctuations, and variations.
Retire your old eyes that only see today as a déjà vu of the day before
Employ the sight that is fixed on detecting life’s novelty, invisible to the stale public.
Nothing will always be here, especially you…