A Life Without Chaos

As the pot overboils,

the papers scatter about,

the boots work and toil,

and the faces sneer and doubt—

The winds keep blowing,

their changes still heard,

the flowers stop growing,

the final cries of a lonely bird—

A glance into the sun,

light brighter than ever deserved,

thoughts of laughter and fun,

food and memories preserved—

The constant tick of a clock,

harsh reminders of empty space,

nostalgia of the key and lock,

remember: life is not a race—

Echoes of empty halls,

fallen tears from winter tales,

loud whispers in tall walls,

hidden shadow that drowns and veils—

But the wolves still howl at the moon,

and a life held captive,

wrapped in a tight cocoon,

is still a life unlived—

A life without chaos,

is not a life at all,

enjoy the flight,

before the inevitable fall.