That it’s hard to be a decent human being,
But its hard to just be
A human being.
Love is the reason,
As culprit of woes—As creator of boons.
Parents who love, fall out,
Friends you loved leave life,
You don’t love those who love you,
You love those who can’t return it.
Confusing is knowing who you love,
And how it keeps its vigour.
There’s fire on the ridge,
It’s coming this way.
Where are His clouds
When wells are dry
And rivers run a trickle?
We are but a breath in fragile skin.