I'm not feeling it, so why would I participate,
I can imagine what you would anticipate.
Then why is it real when nobody cares,
Sitting there lurking, hiding the stares.
After we commiserate everyone pauses,
Triumph is fleeting, igniting the causes.
How could one singe about the glory that passed,
Why would two lull about with all that is past.
I can still feel it in all nodes and on note.
We should still steel about the still and what's still.
Feeling and reeling can be the strife that we wright.
In all its un-heard about what's real and not theirs.......