The world may lift away to vapor
But the people stay
In their lost soul masks
Forever hoping that this thing
That they've defeated
Will open its doors.
The gnome of spirit moans.
Angelic realms are humming in the air
More advice than you could ever use
In the smallest stretch of space,
There for the taking.
But the sunflowers beyond
The concertina wire
Grab your attention
Every time,
The sound of fashionable shoes
Drowns out any rumour
Of the true.
A carousel that moves
Is what your mind reacts to,
Its ever-changing vistas
Of a place that makes no sense,
As empty as your silent contemplation
And the boxcars that lay idle on the track.
You can't get emptiness back.
It comes between your laugh
And the breaths you hear,
The nascent words, the hidden touch
Where arches fall
But give no help
To select the best
Or get untangled
From the rest.
In fact, the abandoned field
Will always call you in,
Burrs and wasps and all,
To the way the grasses move in sun,
The voice you never heard,
Now singing brazen
What would be yours.
