no matter how deep the roots run, they’re only there to support the tree
where we are headed is slightly more important than what’s behind us
what was once modern could someday become retro if it can survive
there’s a certain flow to life that we can resist at our own peril
to be lost in thought seems to be a luxury but really it’s not
it was yesterday it happened, i swear, maybe it was all a dream
to create a sense of place, we will often build artificial space
time we spend waiting is time better spent doing or so i’ve been told
objects left behind tell our life story; even if it is fiction
a storm took the tree but the part where two people carved their love still stands
uptown jack 