Untitled A rainbow hunched low Over lodgepole pine hills, And the sun ripped a swath of pink And purple And crimson Across the West. I was caught in the middle, An eddy of negligence. They're times like these When everything you are, were And will be Means nothing. All that matters Is the rediculous Beauty of the Earth. Time itself stops, And you are no one: A mere spectator of a game You're lucky enough To be playing in the first place.