The sand moving under my bare feet makes me feel unstable. I wonder if stories about the end of the world coming soon are true. What will it feel like?
sand slips by
asks for peace
Will you be able to build bridges that last? The glow attracts, but does not feel like solid ground under the feet. I dream of being a fish, breathing in that golden glow, not knowing that a cruel world exists out there.
you don’t understand
Peace cannot happen unless everybody wants it. Bridges will crumble under the weight of competition and greed. I cannot build a bridge to nowhere. The Sun on the horizon will set, and I will be accosted by nothingness. A sense of being hated pervades in the dark sky.
I can’t beat
a germ of hatred
out to kill