In a darkened, lonely room, your mind or within concrete walls…

You think the sun belongs to you

Perhaps the fear you outgrew

Thought you hid the answer someone wanted to hear

The sun warms this way the same, dear.

You think the moon illuminates your path

The road ready for your steps to dash

The earth spins for us all, dead or alive

Certain things are not worth the cry.

-A.Garcia