You don't always

You don't always understand what you hear. Sometimes, the words are hollow but there is a lot being said in the gaping voids in between. Have you not seen the homeless and the dogs sleep in big hollow pipes to stay warm? You don't always recognize love, because people love in different ways. Fire only knows how to burn; would you try to save a drowning man by lighting him? But when you come to his funeral and look at his ashes, you will know what released him.  You don't always believe in magic, in god, in poetry, or in lies. If you didn't see the spider's intricate web, would you still understand simplicity as well? Have you ever peeled an onion? People cast layers to protect everything they love as well. You don't always like running. The sun is caught sleeping on the job too. You don't always like what you see. Sunshine means smiles for you, but when you open the curtains too abruptly on a summer’s day, you raise your hand to shield your eyes.  You don't always bring yourself to say the things you want to. Mumbled goodbyes are in fact harder than long speeches. You don’t always think much of the curious air of hyper reality. Ask a child; he’ll tell you that a pond is a lake, a breeze is a storm, a handful of dust is a desert and a monster lives under the bed.