What a funny thing it is,
To be human.
We’re a mystery.
Recklessly so.
It’s all we can be.
Even our phantoms breathe.
We find it easier,
To study atoms.
Than study what they,
So intricately make up.
We can study the moon,
But we can’t study us.
Because there is speed in our feet,
And chaos in our heart.
Rain, shine, thunder.
We don’t stop.
Keep feeling,
Keep feeling.
We’re humans.
Recklessly so.