Cloudreacher
What is gold, but a colour, a precious metal, a fool’s dream?
What is happiness, but a state of mind, a senseless word?
And what is success, but a relative standard to elevate your own ego above that of others?
What am I, but a senseless fool, trying to adhere to the relative standards of those I cannot bear?
I imagine that, like me, millions of people pass by a million others
and wonder if they, like me, are wondering what the others are thinking?
And if they, like me, just stare down, barely meeting each other’s eyes.
Sleep stranger, these days can be tiresome, I know.
Enjoy your books, papers and mobile phones, neighbours;
take in the thoughts and words of others, deemed more worthy to speak.
Maybe one day, you will read mine
if I haven’t stopped reaching for the clouds by then.