Member Poem

Beneath a sickly sky,
Against the motion
Of the heart,
Set apart
From the world;
From humanity.

Where every piece of pie
Becomes a notion
Of eternity:

We live, we die, we’re born again,
Never knowing when.

Feet on the shore and eye
Towards the ocean,
All night and day
Drifts in delay,
As time goes by–

Time is astray.

As simple passersby
With lack of lotion,
We burn beneath the sultry sun–
With hollow goals,
Stuffed hearts and souls–
And feel as though we weigh a ton.

From low to high,
Far out, nearby,
We live, we die
In commotion.