Seconds connecting hours
weaving days into weeks
defining months into
the years of our lives.

Lives connecting people
weaving towns into states
defining the realms
and cultures of our world.

World without end....
Beyond the transient scars
of Atlas...Well after sands crumble
the boundaries of our time.

The borders more fixed lie,
in the heart of man
failing to see, failing to dream
of what lies in the path beyond his pain.

Beyond, because, before we define
our true promise we enclose, encircle
and encompass our fear of failing
or falling behind the shadow
of who we dream to be.

Defined by our "self,"
denied by the self
letting ourselves down
by failing to try.

Try as we might
to secure extrinsic goals
more fleeting than a passing gust
fading quicker than yesterday's setting sun
Pride races relentlessly and ruthlessly
towards a static portrait painted by
our own lying eyes.

We lose the dynamic self,
are defined not by deed
but rather by greed:
buying acute relief
from the chronic scorn
and regret lurking within
our heart.