The more I sit and ponder,
The less my thought wander,
The simpler my wonder,
As I’m humbled by age.
We all have hopes,
Delusions of grandeur,
To mask our simplicity
And act as an anchor;
To illusions drawn
In the prison of individuality,
Yet we all become aware,
Even if gradually.
That our pain is ordinary,
A promise from life
And no one soul is special,
Not even mine
