You are a contradiction in a frame of bone, A spark of starlight, and a heavy stone. You build cathedrals out of simple sand, Then let the blueprints slip right through your hand. I see the way you chase the setting sun, To capture beauty before the day is done, Yet spend your hours tethered to a screen, Searching for wonders you have already seen. You are fragile things, composed of breath and ghost, Loving the things that seem to hurt you most. You dream of heights, of moons, and distant spheres, While drowning in a cup of salt and tears. I see the way you chase the setting sun, To capture beauty before the day is done, Yet spend your hours tethered to a screen, Searching for wonders you have already seen. There is a rhythm in the way you strive, A desperate, lovely ache to be alive. You seek for logic in a world of chance, And turn a struggle into a storied dance.
