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.