
The lockstep’s beat stifles
in the echo of silence.
In isolation I sort
all the goods I carry with me.
Where my yesterday thrives to tomorrow
the becoming matures to being
under layers of the experienced,
shaped by the rhythm of everyday life.
The lockstep’s beat stifles
in the echo of silence.
In isolation I sort
all the goods I carry with me.
Where my yesterday thrives to tomorrow
the becoming matures to being
under layers of the experienced,
shaped by the rhythm of everyday life.