The Lake

I take my steps beside the lake and stare to where the water stops, and in these moments I adhere to nothing less than broken thoughts. My dreams, my hopes, they fret among the boughs of trees that fell, from whence they leaned a touch to far to see their own reflections. As I drift

Life is short, live it long.

The days we live, at times they number themselves. The verbose, they overflow and mimic the truths that lie quaking in all the corners of the world. Our lives have become inundated by over-abundances of relationships with images we praise and worship like a sex-starved teenager over dalliances. Yet fundamental necessities like knowledge and progression