Across the Street

We are trying every way to reach,
a new day starting with a shadow of cloud;
rushing to the end of the planet, but dispersed
off the life living across the street.

We are flying high, with fear nearby,
and like every time, time flees;
but little do we care, and less we look —
and it builds a sea across the street.

Are we blind, or just insecure?
Or are we building a planet of floors?
A few more takes, and the end is there —
still so far, from across the street.

We are trapped behind the ego,
living life on the stage of a show;
colours are lost into shades of darkness,
and we cry alone, across the street.