The Stilling

In the day of just done,

it seems like it's over,

shot like a gun,

mistaken for fun!!

Strolling about,

the Cell Phones are Loud,

Computers keep working,

it is the new shroud.

Deeply residing are questions so asked,

in a walk with said fingers,

texting, They ask.

Answers are Sorted,

no real thing clicks,

in facts of 'just is'

people resist.

Is it the Time, the Place or the Measure?,

the Hour-Glass broke,

my Eye did See ...... splat!!

The mess of a wreck,

scrapped for the value,

like grains of sand,

it adds-up to a View!!

The Street Sweeper knows a Grave Diggers deed,

clean-it up well,

so the public can't tell.

Belief is still innocence,

religion does kill,

almost like or moreover exact,

it is not I that is correct,

but you that's off track.

I plod a-Long and interesting song,

I tune when I'm done,

I play I go wrong.

To say what I speak,

so naturally think,

not a thought as to how,

I just seem to be ploughing.

Cheers to good footing!!