Existence

The somber melody of an bricalodge of leaves drearily

passing through the night sky,

falling whichever way the wind instructs them,

all the while they sing.

The wind never silences their spirits.

Thunder rolls in the morning like a heavy

catastrophic sound filled soundlessness,

the birds competing for their turn to chirp and chime.

Facing the giant faceless beast,

they cry.

Emotionless faces pass through congested

concrete sidewalks, missing the wanderers.

Fruitless, futile and effectual

we pass them off as inexistent.

Still the wanderers continue their plea.

A motionless man resides in solitude,

putting on his charisma every night.

Speaking of understanding with the meek,

but paying note to the cognet.

Still there will be unrest.

Only a wide eyed warrior could abolish

the injustice and carelessness instilled,

in a nation that doesn’t notice the oppression

of another human being

or the desperate prayers, and bargaining.