Routine

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The lack of spontaneity
In this dull routine
Makes me feel the need for clarity,
For something more than what is seen.

The droning clock will always chime
Just as the sea will always reach the shore,
But how much longer before it's our time
To reach up and find the cure?

The cure to all the emptiness
To what lies in between
The desire for something more than this,
For that far off abstract dream.

And until the dark can separate
Until the sunlight can kiss our cheek
We will try to break from the shackles of fate
But we know we are far too weak.





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