Like a steady clock, life and the world lean repetitively toward normality.

 Daybreak inspires indolence and twilight brings about a drowning nighttime dull.

Society is a mere formality

A means to an end and an end to life’s lull.

Life is cold and Beige or Brown

Life is misery and diversion is unfathomable.

What of the winds of change—touching even the farthest town?

What of the words lost to time—are they too considered unfashionable?

That should not mean the suspension of imagination.

Or the resignation toward an intransigent fate.

Those who build their own foundation

Strengthens day to day—in spite of the road less traveled never becoming straight.
What of the unusual and the absurd?

What of the mercurial minds that thwart Life’s sense of security?

From the light of the deviated, society can be blurred.

And from the masters of their craft, thrives the obscurity.

For the skilled shall brave the craven

And stand ardently against the wiping tide.

To become stewards of their lighthouses—their professions enshrining another maven.

For they steer away, the Ships of Change, away from conformity—from which the world refuses to confide

For Life swings toward the bold and kindhearted

Because Life is what is made of it—both robust and undisputed.

Where would society be without the uncharted?
Life is short—but for four sentences long—and they are all convoluted.

Photo by Stephen Leonardi on Unsplash