Two men crossed the foggy path, wide
In front of me - on their way to find lost.
And, when I opened the windshield
The frames changed - as do the winds
When death wants to sit aside
Singing; humming canticles of god’s field
As life’s muse has cast off suffering’s
cost.
One man lived by the shutter’s eye
Capturing many faces -
Found smiling;
or sorrowing
In many places.
They each paid a price,
without borrowing,
By simply being – interesting.
The other man lived in fiction
Selling life’s tenets at a small fraction
Piece by piece; with little lies that speak
A eulogy of a man both strong and weak.
Now, I must hurry along and run from the
freaks -
Somewhere in desolation
is a temporary aberration.
