We fail
There’s smoke at the top of that building.
I think somebody’s dying in there.
It’s people.
A person.
A creature.
Humanity.
What price should one pay
to salvage salvation?
There’s smoke coming out of my eyes.
I think there’s somebody dying in here.
Don’t look, now...
Turn away and wonder...
‘why do people die?’
Why do people live?
I have a compass, and I’m pointing it up;
I call this ‘the fifth cardinal point’
but it requires pointing down.
It puzzles me to notice the smoke coming out of that building.
Nobody died there.
I am no-body.
We have equated failure with the soul.
We fail.