The New Faces

Everyone passes

By the way of the floating breathes

Through the rushed, oncoming traffic

Whizzing by the empty stares and menacing glares.

I blow on


Under the wistful sun’s glow

Everyone feels, subconsciously

As I tickle the tree’s leaves

and slowly strip your former identity

I blow on


Everyone expects,

though there is wonder.

As I make my lasting bow

they become obsessed


As time goes on,

they will remember

the protest coming from the sea

as the taunting storm pleads to be free


I carry their heart

along the delicate path

through the lush jungles

and dry deserts

I drag and persuade

and blow on

after the crowds have gone

soaring through the clouds

the moans begin to falter

slowly drifting further away

I extend my hand into the void

but everyones gone




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