Lie still in the wake of day,
Don't bother to stare.
Your life is like a mound of clay,
Delicate like a thinning strand of hair.
Stop, breathe, feel
Till the lines disappear.
All that is left is surreal
Twisting out of shape in the open clear.
Your life is too distant, too vague..
It needs no words, no deed.
Stop before your thougts plague
The beginning of life's humble need.