Doing nothing is the art,
of going into the deepest part of yourself.
And simply let it go.
It is the achievement of depth,
and desires.
In flux, rotating through the microcosm
of the 21st century.
Middling eyes and trembling hands,
co-exist in futures;
not yet explored.
Nor conquered,
merely contemplated
in Darkness.
Scribbling with air pencils,
random thoughts screaming
like arrows through night skies.
Within and without.
Clinging onto false idols,
of fame, greed and larceny.
We sit on hillsides
with our dreams and hopes,
crumbling as the sun goes down.
Holding hands
in Disbelief.
