things unneeded fill our days –

like possibly,

perhaps,

maybe…

 

how often do we put aside

what matters,

holding our breath –

clinching our hands,

expecting even Atlas to shrug –

 

for what?

 

a hand we feel compelled to hold?

replies to questions – unheard?

 

as callous as forget,

intangible as why –

we build our lives on

could,

should –

then wonder what went wrong

when trapped in lonely –

unremembered as even midnight

by pompous dawn!