Our Lives
We wake up every morning
To the circus we call our existence,
A chorus sung by a soloist and
Marathons to the next galaxy,
We go around in circles
Of never ending light
Panting for air wherever
It may donate itself.
We are paralysed by
Our own greatness,
The music we have composed
May deafen our children one day,
The miracle of technology
Might one day become
Our master and we the slaves,
The seeds we sow are
The blood and sweat
From our very own bodies.
These poor lives we live
Just another civilisation in universe
For there is something greater
Than all of us when we look
Just even an arm length away,
We are surrounded by
Many a splendour things
In this place we call home.
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