Boundaries

call out my name,

across the dark forlorn waters

of this raging swamp,

and I will hear,

I will come;

we are all terminally ill

in this terminal world,

waiting for a cure

which will never come;

but still we wait

just the same;

time makes everything

temporary,

everything obsolete,

in their well defined universe

they lie trapped,

by limits and invisible boundaries

they can never cross,

outside the storm rages on,

outside children die

slow lonely deaths,

while inside

it is business as usual.

.

.