As mute witness, I sit in quiet anonymity
Observing a never-ending parade of characters
They appear silently, but do not remain,
Pausing only momentarily,
They cast furtive glances, over receding shoulders,
Before passing namelessly into the void.
The doubts they have sown in my sub conscientious
Linger as ripples, long after their passing
Their appearance, a waking dream without resolution
Paints a curious vision cloaked in sadness.
The creation of some unacknowledged inner turmoil?
A memory of disappointment, or fear of a future unfulfilled, foretold
Do they seek me out, with a message in hand?
A suggested course of action or a map to escape this darkness
or is their appearance as random as the message in a bottle
Cast into the sea to wash up unexpectedly upon the shore of my uncertainty.
If there is something I should understand in this scene, I’ve failed
Hoping to find a bit of relief from a lifetime’s accumulated angst.
Instead I’ve added a dozen faceless apparitions,
Each with an armload of questions, and not an answer among them.