There is a blessing in the chimes.
They tingle for your prayers
And for my hopes,
The trails of a shooting star
Long overdue
Finally sounding to us.

In how we kneel to god knows where
With our hands clasped
And in how we turn to our wooden floors
With our heads bent.
In how we wake and turn to the window--
As if making sure that the ground
Has not been pulled from under us
And that the sky has not been blown away.

We look to the beasts
That feast upon our hopes
And we stare them in the eye,
As distrustful as us to others--
And we turn to the eyes of the stars,
A true individual and a liar--
Burning and burnt white
Mare of colors and the colorblind.

There is no war in love.
There is desperation in hate.

We preach and follow;
Then we turn to each other,
Selfish means presented on platters of kindness--

I hope the chimes ring for you soon.
I hope you have a good day.

They are called pleasantries for a reason.