Thoughts flow like water my friend - A Poetic Practice

What does one do when the doors are opened while at the same time the winds blow so softly you hear its whisper when you fail to listen at its message as time moves its passage.

Where does one go when all seen are what is there are all looking through their window screen blurred into a vision at the eye of the beholder of its one hand grasper ever gripping like a pin clasper.

When do moments in time become a life worth moving into a great parts of every other instances experienced into what you will end up being what we all get for failing in seeing the almighty being.

How does one ensure anything seen that is unseen are the right before them all crystal clear like a fresh breeze of clean air running through flowing hair hoping in all hope there is no shed tear.

Imagine how things just fit right even when its very tight like a deadline into a predestined destination rolling down a hill with no breaks to stop the ball going down into a pitfall on a foot stall.