Bystanders

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We stand

In long shadows,

passing through,

passing through,

they’re silent

Wanderers,

adrift, going where they’re taken.

Currents in the void

have shifted;

you’ll never see them again.

Mutters echo softly,

barely audible,

across the way.

Look them in their eyes,

they will not acknowledge.

As surely as time flows,

they will not stay.

Who are you?

Who are you?

I cannot say.

No one knows,

but they all ask

the same of you.

Night Owl

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Your wildest dreams

are sweet relief,

a cease to endless wandering,

rest for your weary mind.

And rest you try to do

but release eludes.

Your alarm clock shows

the lapsing night,

instinct tells you

there’s more to do

but even the sun rests now

and today, for you,

is not yet through.

The moon watches,

Tantalus of the night,

sharing your affliction,

stillness surrounds

but it never partakes.

It chases the sun,

shape-shifting,

with a glint always in its eye,

but never does the moon

bask in the light.

Relief,

you hope,

is soon to come,

you lay your head

on your pillow

and fade away

for a moment,

“Good morning New Jersey!

Today’s forecast is 72 degrees,

sunny with low humidity.”

If only the new day,

could wait

until tomorrow.