Sunday, 7 April 2013

In the midst of Somewhere (A Poem)


In the midst of Somewhere, He was Nowhere

Wounded in full, quarter healed, half inebriated in the passion of His desires
He continued with the stroll

Whistling in silence, flowing in the flow, knowing not where to go
He went on with the stroll

Shattered hopes, dispelled beliefs, faces lost to adversity
He plodded with the stroll

Conscious featherweight, feet off earth, conscience weighed heavy
He shambled with the stroll

No purpose on His mind, no want to His soul, halting for a brief
He resumed with the stroll

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