Hiding from the Cosmic Dream

Who locked the door?

Better yet, who built the lock?
Who put these walls up, chiseling shelter from rock?

What's a comfort zone, anyways,
just a place to hide from the turning of days?

A place to hold back while someone else turns the page?

Why set the stage if the actors are delayed?
At least were the only patrons who paid.

And that's okay, because the world keeps turning
no matter how many dollar bills we keep burning.

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