When Suffering Turns To Dust

We suffer together - Some more, some less And the less console Themselves with how They aren't the more. We have aids and We are blind and We rot in gutters. Would it be rude If I prayed for us? I remember myself When I see you there And I wonder if We can make it to An elegant solution. Like a beautiful song Plays on human breath By means of a flute, The beauty of it in me Is as mortal as I am. Same goes for the ugly. Nothing escapes the end. Neither the harmonious Nor the turbulent Remains expressed.

CuldeSac

What are words without understanding and what is understanding without sense?

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