Years pass by
unnoticed,
unmolested by touch
and the straight
line of life
returns to its origin,
completing our circle of thoughts;
we are victims
of each other's securities,
reaaching the same
conclusion each day; yet,
when the lights go out
and the last door closes,
playing it safe;
we are desperate creatures of habit
whose lives must begin
and end with something tangible
from which to drift away;
we are people whose passion
for the ordinary,
the shortest goal,
the easiest method,
creates order out of chaos,
permitting us to limit
our opportunities and reduce
our fears of being\
controlled by our failures.
December 1986
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