I make it to my room, my room,
This place, my worries are free, but entombed.
Can I watch them come and come then go?
Can I forget them,
And give them no giving thought?

Are they but leaves
Blowing by my windshield?
With a gaze they are seen
And with a blink they have never been.

All lost, all lost.

I toss and turn and criss and cross
My body as its stillness mourns.
Where have we gone
From our start as dust on the ground?
I have not moved from this beginning spot.

Change is a no good if there is no good
For which to change into.
I know myself only as myself,
No other can I become:
My heart may mend
But my soul does not bend



My bed it warms the body,
It cools the mind,
I sleep on dreams of other times.
On clouds I seem,
but
In this, my room, I know
My feet- the ground, connect.

All lost, all lost.