Thursday, November 6, 2025

Hollow Men

There is real sorrow here walking with hollow men
We have forgotten our home in the stars
And fail to hear the brittle leaves as they whisper in the wind
A reminder to relish the kiss of the sun on bare skin
To cherish the heat of a summer day
To recognize that no living thing receives exception
To the endless grind of life and death and life again

There is real sorrow here walking with hollow men
We have forgotten the sweet smell of grass 
As we gaze into a scape of eternal blue
The clouds meandering without intent, directionless
The earth a thrumming, vibrant burst of energy
The ants and worms and fungus helping guide
All the living things back to dust so that they can live again

There is real sorrow here walking with hollow men
Except for the occasion when two strangers bump into one another
Shy smiles and words of kindness exchanged
Except when a piece of music ignites 
Something which had been sleeping in the soft dark
Except when the wild smile of a child
Is a reminder of all which has been forgotten



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