question it

Mostly questions,
That's what the music told me.
In the street just before twilight
You see the world through sunglasses,
Through wine glasses,
Through glass windows that keep you from the heat.
Good for you, you've learned how to escape...
Know enough to know how to be.
That's what your picture in a case told me.
We won't talk about the crack in the glass because you don't notice it anymore or so you say---
You think you'll deal with it later...
But you don't know glass, or how much you rely on it to see through.
To see the world.
And that one crack will lead to more cracks and then that will be all you can see
Or it'll break and you'll feel the heat
See the wine no longer elegant but splattered and ugly all over you,
See everything without a dim light over it, feel the sun against your eyes and don't be too afraid you'll go blind.
If the case breaks it'll make someone pick up your picture and really look at it and wonder who that person was...
Or who are you now?
Not how: How much? How fast? How soon?
Not when: When did it happen? When did they decide?
But, why?
That's what your eyes told me,
Mostly questions they seemed to say.
I don't have the answers.
But I don't like this beautiful world where the glass keeps us protected and is all at once unsafe.