You sit in a world of stasis,
Following the minute traces,
Seeing intangible, unknowable signs,
In infinite cosmic designs,
Leads to a dangerous and devilish crisis,
Where you get stuck in hidden places.
You miss the highs and the lows,
The morning as the cock crows.
The world will pass you by,
As insignificant alive or if you die.
No-one misses someone they've never known,
So you reap the seed you've sown.