Is anybody really ours
Ours to call child, friend, father, mother….
Is anyone really ours
Here we are, dead things in the night
We are tossing our anchors at the first ship that gives light…
Here an illusion, heartbreak.
The horizon seems so far away lighted by galaxies never being able to get to.
In the end it’s all gone and that ship was never going to dock anyway.
Navigation is up to the soul of them, cannot be steered by another no matter what map is showing them the lovely days ahead.
I can almost hear the water. ..can you.