Same

On a Sunday
at nine
he sits by the window
watching
people passing by
bringing their burdens
he is not part
of this
sacrifice
he is the spectator
watching the day pass by

till the next level of
his lazy enlightenment
the sun fades away
and now the moon
he sits by the window
imagining
the night away

it will be the same on
another day of his life
this spectator