with no real place
no one of consequence
drawing fake lines
in shifting sand

there is no middle
there is no road
only rivers of time
cutting deep
into unfortunate foundations
built upon the banks
of illusion

this ignis fatuus
of the day
born of lazy thinking
and decay
this imaginary fire
the spark of indecision
brings to light
the incinerator of hope

for shame
and shameless fear
shall grow here

but be not afraid
to stand so far away
or weep
for this willow
rooted in reality
will only bend
in the cool breeze
of tomorrow