It's about

It's abt an eve, abandoned with a leather pad.

It's abt time, that took off like a butterfly.

It's abt me, neither perfect nor meant to be.

It's abt the globe, revolving on its axis. 

It's abt the situation, making a maze out of hopes.

It's abt dark, pat dusk before bright dawn.

It's abt soul, which exists in hazy clouds.

It's abt spark, embracing the glory of the celesta.

It's abt space, their silence leaves with pride.

It's abt home, where reckless eyes find their peace. 

You know what it's about each peculiar thing which we ignore as an expiry label. It's abt life which we take for granted.