when a fog descends . the path only remains clear . if we keep moving
there isn’t much need . for a see-through umbrella . on a sunny day
what someone else wants . for themselves, shouldn’t translate . into what we want
even sitting still . the idea of motion . is everywhere
wishing it to be . runs into reality . as the ice rink melts
when something happens . maybe it is a surprise . but it still happened
vibrations in time . echo the space we live in . synching here to now
what we encounter . is never the whole story . just pieces we’re shown
something once vital . erased by change, leaves behind . anonymous clues
there is a purpose . in every lost item . that goes unfulfilled
uptown jack 