Momentary existence never seized;
a grey persistence is the life you lead.
Days are shapeless; under going maintenance.
An apple that was never picked from the tree.
In a broad span of daydreams, when will I catch my grip?
Find my oar and row my boat, remember that I still exist.
And now the sky seems more white than grey;
and I've learnt.
I've made a difference to myself today.