View From My Window
The Blank Page
All the world has faded against
the background of commerce,
and nothing is left.
I feel like such a thief, taking away the
rights of common men. Street workers,
bankers, teachers. They rise above
the sadness, their bones sag in the dust.
What have we learned? What stories
have been told, over and over again,
only to be repeated twice more? I have
not lived for as long as I wished, but
here I stand, a broken man, laying
myself on the rail road tracks just to
be heard, just to be acknowledged;
the soot gets in my eyes, but I take
no notice. I stand against the infidels,
I rise in the silence of the blank page.
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The Blank Page
The Blank Page
