Presumptions

PROSE

Sitting on a rooftop over looking tomorrow
feet dangling over unforeseen sorrow
but from here I find contentment, you see -
and not in things that might or won't be
towering above you on my ivory obelisk
the fear of fear of vertigo is an acceptable risk
and when the mountains turn to me and look with scorn
I'll know its these rooftops where our dreams are born

the pursuit of perfection is the art we practice
painting pictures of mortality on the back of clouds
across plains of repetition, our new thoughts have tracked us
and philosophies have followed our footsteps so loud

us thinkers and writers and those yearning to learn
we sit on rooftops held up by theories and dreams
but with just one strong gust our fortunes can turn
and our lofty seat collapse, and that's all that means.