they say
. shoot for the moon
. even if you miss
. you’ll hit the stars
but some shots fall short
. and the stars they never
. witness our dreams
. answer our prayers
our shots ring unheard
. through the infinite darkness
. the unknown chasm
. oblivion
yet we shoot and we work
. almost mindless in repetition
. almost mechanical in movement
. almost purposeless in routine
we become an echo
. perpetuating the mechanism
. that bounds us to its cycle
. stifled in our own gasps for breath
our spirits dim and flicker
. as gatsby’s green light winks out
. our dreams can only remain
. faraway fantasies forever
but through pensive nights we gaze up
. to wisps of black and rays of dark
. in search of the place the purpose
. of our endless tunnel of toil
these dark skies yield no answer
. yet somewhere within us we know
. that honest truth lies far beyond
. horizons we may perceive
so when darkness falls at the thirteenth hour
. we shoot again hoping
. one day
. someday
we’ll reach the unseen skies
___
