Mundane Steps


Trekking in the early morning, on a cracked road.

My feet do not step, but drag.

They are busy, hurrying to and from the mundane.

Isolated they step and dart through the mid-morning traffic.

And the people they talk, laugh, and cry.

Where they go, they do not care.

People do not realize what a mundane system it is.

You drive to a destination and get out.

For what?

To stare, to think, to buy, and to wonder

what is the point of it all?

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