The racing clouds look still to me,
The raging waters, calm;
I’m far away, alone, detached;
I judge not, fear not, as I watch:
A lighthouse in the storm.
The traffic seems to crawl, to me;
No crashes on the map;
I’m way up high, I can’t detect
The scurries of such small insects,
Upon my icon-ed app.
The Constitution of our land,
The laws and rules and such:
It’s such a blur, I cannot see;
These words look all the same to me;
Their value and their legacy:
They cannot matter much.
Copyright 2018 Andrea LeDew