There is an inherent sadness in humanity, this particular kind of turmoil
that spurs our uncertainty, from uncertainty.
It causes conventional men and women to cling recklessly to their egos
and self proclaimed artists to drown in their identity, desperate to be clever,
as if wit can do anything but breed with itself
when it lacks the concept of compassion.
My limbo generation slides in and out of consciousness,
with their standards distorted and excuses within reach.
Meanwhile a vast and endless universe opens its doors to anyone, anything
willing to be a part of it.
You may feel on top of the world
but in reality you are floating, only a speck, in everything,
and I wish you could see how beautiful you are.