movement

life is but a journey.
a long pavement with timeline;
carved with dates and events.

getting lost in the moment.
driven by emotion and anger.
simply combining fate and alienation.

seasons keep on changing.
so do attitude and motivation.
it's just a matter of triumph or flop.

and I can only sit on a bench near the sidewalk.
stuck with the old abstractions while glimpsing new ones getting drawn.
hopelessly waiting for miracles.

there will be a bus to the next stop.
there will be a bus to the next stop.