We spend our human life
in a state of delay.
Always fitting in the joy,
rarely fitting in the play.
With our passions as bookends
to our morning, noon, and night.
We struggle just to find the hours
to keep our soul alight.
Hating half the clock face,
just a moment in the whole.
These seconds are our freedom,
but it's burned down to the coals.
So we blow and we blow,
feeding life back to our souls,
and we marvel at the glow
that's left.
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