“..we’ve gotta keep moving on
so grateful for the moments..”
i’m stuck like thunder
on an old tape recorder.
all the power; all the purpose gone.
recorded as a rumbling
an echo
an afterthought.
what are You then
when you’re unaware your might
is fleeting
and just a depression
on cellophane;
recorded as background noise
on someone else’s tape of life.
littlestorms 