someone marks a spot and we may never know why but we know they cared
there are some mornings; you watch the news and wish you could go back to bed
in the aftermath it’s as if the sky says, it’s going to be alright
we gather to watch rockets explode; never once fearing our safety
we try really hard to create unique places that are generic
by adding a gate we create the illusion that all are welcome
to achieve balance we must weigh the positive with the negative
it’s not all at once so we barely notice as our time slips away
every place has its own rhythm and creates its own unique song
we often forget that every reflection is an illusion
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