Poetry
The Airport
lonely eyes
that searching look
you catch it in the first fraction of a glimpse
and then it’s gone
paradoxical
where people are most crowded
moving toward a distination
moving away from. . .
physical distance has little to do with loneliness
people caught up in moving
with no cognizance of their movement
flicker. . something. . .searching
you’re not what their looking for
meditative thoughts
isolated people with lonely
attitudes of objectivity
there’s a place for them.
waves of momentary connectedness pass
between us
moving them towards
the realization of their journey.
The Journey
Quiet contemplation
serious expressions,
wondering spirits
on a sojourners voyage
some to their hearts
some to their minds
others tracing footsteps
through their souls.
Foreign thoughts
like the velvet touch
of a woman
stroke their memories
trying to loosen
reminents of ideas
left with past
events of their
lives in deparation.
The Arrival
feet, shuffling past
scurring, hurrying
creeping, crawling
shuffling, stumbling,
going here
going nowhere
on a mission
of unspoken
origin
and silent endings.
The Return
people brushing shoulders
as they pass
not touching each other
but whispers of memories
wafting between them
like the smoke of a candle
flickering in the darkness
sitting people
gazing up and down
past and through
those passing by
all on their way to anywhere
from nowhere, somewhere
perhaps the
last person you’ll
ever see
busy in their own actions
busier still in their thoughts
thinking their more than they are
less than they should be
secret thoughts filtering through opne eyes.
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