Like people in a diner
in and out as fast as a single breath,
never remembered unless the soul
is of the light of day, so vibrant.
Hurried by the technology, not enjoying the technique,
the art of the handshake dead as the Latin language.
Spaceships to the stars,
ripping through the clouds at the speed of light,
burning the paper airplane mentality.
Leaping tall buildings in a single bound,
Superman without the hero worship
in our apathetic society, save yourself first.
Fragile minds think alike,
hide away from the darkness now,
open your eyes to see it bleeding into the light of your heart,
only tasting the iron in your mouth,
as light from your soul grows like a cancer,
eating all that was evil in the world.
Freedom roams the skies,
like birds of a feather so wayward
of all species with wings,
man created its own silver bird,
soaring over oceanic mountains
connecting us as well as isolating our basic needs,
the art of love among the living humanity. . . .
Hands are desperately needed
to mend the crack in basic selves,
hold yours out to offer compassion. . . .
to an ever changing transition in the human soul.
Timothy Michael DiVito c2021
