An Ordinary Day

A poem

On this ordinary day, nothing stands out. An average morning, as people go on through tunnels of exorbitant light and artificial needs. Maybe someone’s world will shatter, but it won’t matter much to the rest.

On this ordinary day, no one stands out. Average people, walking around on busy streets and colorful highways that hide the grayness of the city’s greed. Maybe the birds will sing a different song, but it won’t matter as it falls on ears blocked by routine.

The needle’s drop echoes among the ants. They’re the only ones that look around. The people still going about their day, dare not spare a glance. They can’t risk breaking their habits, at least not on this ordinary day.

Notes: I wonder how many people care about the homeless on an “ordinary day”. It seems to me that it’s customary to care (or to pretend to care) about them when the weather conditions are harsh or when it’s a holiday.

What about all the other days of the year though?