Poetry

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The Invisible

I am the invisible
thrown about in winds.
A wanderer within multitudes
a wanderer in barren lands.
Forsaken by the brethren
of a blind relentless world,
sat by many fires, remaining
frozen to the soul
Astounded I heard rumours,
amazed I heard the echoes
reluctant I hid in shadows
and watched from darkened alleys.
Concrete never laughs,
nor the bricks offer up joy,
these towers all about me
drown out the sun above
these tortured manmade structures
so powerful in their might,
so deceiving in their beauty
we live in these monstrosities
we pay the rent.
the dues.
The bills are signed
on dotted lines...
...yet again I heard the rumours
yet again I heard the echoes
Under street lamps I leaned on posts.
waiting for the sound.
Cigarettes and plastic cups
pain the edges of this street
yet beyond all of the static
I see blood blended with feet
what tragedy has befallen?
Am I hear to witness?
And why?
Sirens blare
I sit down and stare
my arms and legs they twitch.
I fall in streets
on mercy lane
beyond the shadows of the beast.
where are the frames of everyday?
where is the solid ground?
My cries are heard,
I am told within
a fire grows
the city dims
garbage can dreams
release from me
I am not the man I used to be
sidewalk soul be free from this
the metronome speaks of renewed bliss.
I am the invisible
passed by many
forgotten by most
yet sought by one;
remembered.
My Father my Father
your echoes I heard
your steps I have seen
on a faceless street
through blood and fire
seeking me
desperately
lovingly
Yes! These monstrosities
I leave, to be
to be with you
to be invisible
in visible sight
of You.

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