purpose

and all the white horses

pay visits again

roaming through the meadows

of promise and change

lives in and out of boxes

once comforts, now memories

unable to see the meaning

until the separation

between the four walls

it’s less dangerous

but risk is the existence

of perseverance

idling complacencies
are only for the trees
even rocks roll
and time always
collects its tolls

"Sometimes there’s a higher
purpose than our immediate selves"