Day 324: Perfect Keys

Some will say that the perfect state of being is the state of constant motion, never settling down, never lying down ever for a while. For there is no rest for the weary, he cannot come back home, so he go around in circles even if he is not alone. These obsessions with motion, with the idea of not being stuck to something, not being committed to anything like everything else maybe just a phase. Maybe we have found these to be the perfect keys, as we keep moving and shifting our stage. I have not stolen much from the night, maybe just a little company and maybe warmth in the cold winter tonight. As these perfect keys in the background they play, I pack my bags and simply move away.

Perfect Keys
So they played in the corner of my room
With places; I can hear from but cannot see
The pots and pans they lay quiet somewhere
Playing symphony of my mind in perfect keys

These hours of the night, that I refuse to chase
They won't listen to me or you, in time, they will age
For those who cast a shadow even without being close
I write to them in the quiet and behind the closed doors

The cups of tea mellowed, for now, just milk poured into a glass
Just reminders of the things that don't stay, some that pass
At journey's beginning or journey's end, you ask me of what I feel
I just need to move for now, even if I can't find the perfect key

For some these obsessions into the night, will fade in time too
These closed loops of thoughts, and the things we chase as fools
In the storyteller's cradle, a story quietly sleeps for now
As I look for rhythms I find, I know not why and I know not how