The birds keep singing

whoknowswhenwhat

What do you do when
The world has lost its charm
But hasn’t shown you its secrets yet?

What do you do when
All food has lost its flavor,
And the spices have lost their zest?
When the thought of the future just doesn’t move you anymore?
And when the satisfaction
Of a day well-lived,
Is just so seldom experienced?

What do you do when the movies seem less real?
And the laughter and tears feel less rich?
When the calmness feels less nourishing,
And the passions feel like they are wiped over
With grey paint?

If you came to this poem
Hoping you’d find an answer,
You better go knocking
On some other
Poor woman’s door.

The birds outside my dirty window keep singing
“Hold tight,”
“Hold tight,”
“The dream will change,”
“The dream will change.”

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