the softest pink-gray clouds
stretch across a pale blue sky;
they drift slow
into oncoming night;
below, we are an army
of harsh light and rolling wheels
littered across an artificial backdrop
in a hurry to move on -
to get where we are going -
to the place we want to be;
in our hurry
we miss much of the world,
so vast and mysterious,
if we were paying attention
we wouldn't have time to see it all;
we owe it to ourselves
to stop looking elsewhere,
to open our eyes
to all that surrounds,
to let it's beauty touch us,
and let us know
we are where we belong
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