The One Who is You

Roaming the ends of existence,
lost in the realms of your mind,

Through hollow walls and empty stalls,
Pulled down by the sands of time

Across a crowded room standing handing fools another twisted line,

From an empty chair direct a stare,
To the halls of your own despair,

Diseased by the deceased I increased, the thought of going nowhere,

Surrounded the thought compounded, 
The scream I dreamed would never scare,

From a shell I dispel, corrupt and un-tell the dreams of the un-lead around me,

Pleading my allegiance to the legions of suspicions to the unread, unsaid, unfed,

The winds they will come and they’ll reach for the gun,
and silence will fall from my head,
 
So think of me not as you hear the first shot,
though gently I drop I’m clear in the thought,
That my soul rises freely above me,

So what of us now as we gather the sounds
of the cries of the dying around us,

Do we look in the eyes of the stranger’s disguise?
And remember he was once you?

When time moves us on, our land will be gone,
In memory of the one who is you.

©️ 2020 Graham Marshall 
©️ #poem only 

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