Displacement

Have you found a place in the world yet? Perhaps just that one where you can belong? A one place and time you have swept A place you know you have lived to begone Creating moments beyond grasp to flee Have you that living moment for yourself only? I would like to remember the moments that made me Have I that touch unfelt to consider barely? We all assume to have lived like someone When even we ourselves barely grace the surface What is it that we know... what have we become? To be advising someone else for our dreams to chase Can we just not think we know everything? Why do we always think we know and pretend to know more? Why and how does it mean from nothing? Are we all living from someone else's advice before? Can I say... perhaps far too many times I am swept And my foundation isn't dated to belong Simply... the world isn't to belong to anyone yet Simply because... humanities are made to be gone