passing on…

the more days that pass though these hands
the less these hands seem to care
and the more these hands work to make a completely new operation

where i live only in my own world
open and ready to be submersed
forgetting how it was and who i am

forgetting and just experiencing
the life and love everyone seems to leave behind
the simple and trustworthy

the hope of the hopeless nomad
the dreams of the lost tirades
will lure me in, absorbing me so much, you will never see me again

and if you see me, you will not know my face or language
those who have known me will say i have passed on
and those who will know me will be touched
as i have been touched by all of you

sometimes the world is not worth saving when it stands against saving yourself

how large and small we all can be
how significant we want to be
how trivial we really are