Across the street


Often times I have waited across the street
Blended in the dimly lit street
In my dull jacket
That keeps a lot subdued
Hides my flamboyant, frolicky, boisterous
Self
More vibrant than the shining blue car
On the lonely, freckled, sorrowful street
That’s uncovered and loudly shouting
I have waited
For the night to come
And bring my wisdom forth
For darkness to take over
And bring my moon which
The chill of the night
To let my warmth be felt
I have without effort and natural sadness
Read their pain over and over
Suffered with them
And suffered for them
Without necessity
With love
And let them fly towards wisdom
That sought and they sought not
But I don’t mind my business
That my pain is, that my peace is, that my business is
My business
Instead, I have gone far beyond
Without donning the role of saviour
Without being of any assistance
I haven’t minded my business
All I’ve done is feel
Weep, rejoice, shout and cry
Under the dull and mottled hood
Of my jacket
I have waited
Across the street
At the corner
Of some simmering, shy wing of the world
Where there’s seemingly no delight
And there’s seemingly nothing that excites
Still in the rain, and perhaps in vain,
I have waited
Rejoicing the bittersweet state
But then in a while
I have tried to look back
If there could’ve been a sign of the dark
But before there could be light
And dark awaits the welcome
They were gone!

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