Now

We're waiting for tomorrow,

But tomorrow never comes,

Our last breath is right upon our heels,

Yet we still refuse to run.

86400 seconds,

And we're in another day,

All slipping through our fingers,

As we look the other way.

Days, weeks, months and years,

Are made up of right now,

A string of fleeting moments,

That we can never pin down.

We gaze into the future,

As though it's where we're meant to be,

Always planning for that day,

When we can say we're happy.

We spend so long looking forward,

That we may as well be blind,

Since we don't see until the very end,

All the things we've left behind.

Now I know it's just a theory,

But I think I've worked out how,

The only way to happiness,

Is to love what we have now.

Space

I've met people trapped in crowds
Who think that "space" means you're alone,
Who find their silence too deafening
To spend much time on their own,
They ask how I can hear the whispers
If I stand back from the crowd,
But surely whispers are drowned out
When where you're standing is so loud?
If all you see of those around you
Is the back of someone's head,
Don't you think the bigger picture
Would mean so much more instead?
Just like you can't find constellations
By looking at a single star,
Sometimes the world does not make sense
Until you watch it from afar,
Space does not mean you're empty
It just means you've room to grow,
It doesn't mean you must be lonely,
For there's more people you can know,
Because the space between two beats
Just shows you have a working heart,
And it's the only way to tell
If you're apart or a part.