Some of all that we call human...

No it doesn't take much
A song, a word, a sound,
A faint smell or a forgotten touch
Sometimes it's just the atmosphere.

Follows a swirl intangible,
Mental representations of yonder years,
Illusions are but never fallible
Of those gone by and those yet to be.

Reality tests itself ony in what is,
The silence of your breath
In the motion of life, the momentary bliss,
The cunning nature of all that we call human.

Inevitably, it's a flight
Be it in kindness or kind,
In love or fight...
All in being all that we call human.

The despair of your condition,
Of the impossible feat,
Of the will-less volition...
The nakedness of all that we call human.