Grey Lines

Heaps of men have gathered here
I too from a far away land
To witness the world anew
And reshape it by my hand.

But too many now wet the streets
In a mass bohemian parody
This wrinkled humanity
Has staggered to a halt
Too close to the cusp of being
Stitched into silence

The traffic light blinks
Forward ye knights in shining armor.

How far would these wide eyes walk
Into this moor of mapped mirages
Before they know
That all the conquered castles
Have been cast aside
Into the white foam
Of purple sea;
Set free.

There shall be signposts around
Thousand steps
Falling in a single sound
But since when did the common denominator
Never divided
Us into I

So perhaps this time too
One may see
A brave soul
Into the depths
And the rest follow;
This domino,
White lines
Crossing the oceans
Only to greet
An infinity where
The Black lines meet.

Author: TheHumanAnvil

I find poetry as a gentle reminder, a medium to relay and dwell upon all things considerate people find inconsiderate. Poetry as an art is akin to a lamp or a magnifying glass. It trails volumes of meaning behind obscure, vague words. I have been writing for a time now, and intend to do so for the time to come. And hopefully, hopefully, hope that one day, someday, a person stumbling across this veil of words, find it alluring enough to shift aside the curtain and peer, into the eyes of the naked truth which sways with the wind of reason. If you have any thoughts, it would be my pleasure to know them, if you don't then it would be a pleasure to not. Be my guest. This feast of words is for you.

3 thoughts on “Grey Lines”

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