Fools Like Me

Fools like me cannot tell what tomorrow
will bring, the sands change color as the
light filters through. Another sunset, the
sky melts into the shadowy mist called
nightfall. Fools like me sit and stare at the
stars and wonder.

Tomorrow... another word to describe the
passing of time and fools like me worry about
the content of its presence. Fools like me
wish for glory and hope in dreams formed in
the night visions.

Dreams are made of a substance to
fragile on which to depend, the curly soft
material of illusion permeates events
hardened by realities undeniable. Fools like
me depend on products caught in the
reflections of the minds eye.

Ashy flesh caught in the smoky white
cloud of perpetuity, enquiring into subject
matters too defined for instant revelation,
fools like me fail in the endeavor to interpret
life.

Sufficiency of existence not measuring
up to life's successive cycle, fools like
me wander the planes of time throughout
its generations. From it’s beginning
until its ultimate end, fools like
me will wonder why.