Being understood

Not a chance of being there
Not a sign of it being fair
Can’t touch the ground
Hanging somewhere unfound
Lighting is shooting from the sky
Right or wrong, we can’t decide
Seeing black is not the opposite of white
Night isn’t always dark, am I right?
Turn over a page – you don’t see new words
It’s still the same book, but the turning-over took some efforts
That’s the source of life: stop hesitating, start making.