Inane starts to prepare….

temples in Bagan, Myanmar

(hot air balloons above temples in Bagan, Burma)

 

When the breeze is still,

but there are people everywhere,

should be chaos

but it just hangs in the air.

 

Everybody is running

but there’s nothing to do,

the people are yearning,

the breaking of new.

 

The eclipses are pending,

the moon is full,

changes are coming

and nobody notices at all.

 

The baby could be screaming

but it’s just had it’s fill,

the tills are all dinging

the shops on overkill.

 

The world is still turning

six50 miles an hour,

the kids are in the pub

but their expressions are dour.

 

The plants would be glugging

but theres’s no rain to fall,

the clocks are all ticking,

like there’s no time to call.

 

waiting, celebrating, generating.

 

Tomorrow we’ll dance

release screams into the air.

Shattering the silence,

free without care.

 

Nothing to be afraid of,

it’s all about the crash,

crawl home dying

craving that tequila dash.

 

Nothing to be afraid of,

it’ll all whoosh out fine,

better put the kettle on…

it’s ten to nine.

 

 

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