Life exists in a cloud of inconsistencies,

in the foreignness of self after change,

in regression, in aggression, in weariness and loss of health.

We step between on tip toe, to unstable rocks of peace,

pause to rest but find none,

Move on, link arms if we can,

Make a bridge to the other side that should be greener

but never is more than artificial turf.

Is it only all that?

Wonder.

Then stop and smell the roses.

Consider the beauty right before your eyes

Lest you miss life.