Time wasted,
Lives mismatched, cut and pasted
Into molds,
Sorely cut, un-even and cold.
Status quo; Codes to be followed.
Wasting time, so preciously borrowed,
So valuable, but inevitable is the fade.
Laying finally, where so many others have laid.
The course of time has never settled in our hands,
But rather flowed in everlasting freedom over the lands,
Disrupting the chain.
Newly settled into a routine, nothing lost, so much to gain.
Too much to let go to waste.
Leave the molds behind-make haste.
So separate yourself, freedom of mind
And surely you will find
Matched and pasted, the molds have vanished.
Outdated-rusty and tarnished.
But somewhere, dark and cold, new molds are being laid.
What I wonder is...can we evade?
(Saturday, July, 12, 2008)