London Poem: Day 245

19 April

Where can art take us?
To the front, where lines
Blur, and what was seems
Seems so far away.
Whole lives are poured
Into one singular goal,
A single driving factor
That is sure to end in
Terrible, vacant space.
We will wander for some time,
Waiting, believing that someone
Is bound to show up.
But, as the days grow longer
The space too grows,
And everything stays quiet,
With no one ever knowing
You are there.


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