a bird upon a roof with coal-black feathers
cocks his head
to catch my eye
wandering and unfocused i cannot meet his stare
he takes to wing
silhouette against the sun
surrounded by the glare

funny how the days go by invisibly
and faster than i realize the things i think about
strange to find the calendar my enemy
and scared that when i die so will the things
i think about

i believe in so many things
i know that none of them are true
and my feet
firm upon a pathway i am far too blind to see
leading me

funny how the days go by invisibly
and faster than i realize the things i think about
scared to find the calendar my enemy
and when i die so will the thousand things
i think about

on and on and on