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Feb 2015
I gazed into the masses once again,
As oft I do each day jus' 'fore the morn ray,
This, to divert myself from the perpetual nothing,
And so they passed, eyes shifting now and then,
The parade of the endless masquerade,
Moving with undying fixation throughout the day,
Before such a bleak spectacle,
I sought intrigue, lest I fall in my folly, something,
Amongst such monotony could bring some solace,

(What is their purpose?)

In this pursuit of novelty I found him,
Not unlike the rest, an exact replica of masterful precision,
No fault could be found in this transcription of flesh,
Detail seemed as crystal though the morn still dim,
Yet, with the greatest of scrutiny the answer would remain
No equation nor system for separation,
Not but by the work of chance was he chosen,
While focused, only with my eyes did he I thresh,
Before me, now, was only the man and the street which he tread,

(How can they see?)

I thought as to what action of inquiry to pursue,
For never had I followed them in their repetitious vigil,
Perhaps I could lean insight as I stray from my languor,
May it, this spark of macabre curiosity, subdue,
And so did I step forth from my vantage above,
Approaching I saw he bore no symbol nor sigil,
This I sought as some slight piece with which to identify,
I had known there would be none, yet it chilled me to the core,
I fell in behind him, despite this feeling of trepidation,

(Where do they come from?)

Instead of walking forth, they shambled on,
It seemed to me as it were a single entity, each bound to the next,
Yet, they bore only illusory shackles and masks,
What were these phantasmal creations they had don,
As I focused on his own it seemed to coalesce before me,
It appeared ever-shifting, but never changing, leaving me perplexed,
None of it's forms could fit any description,
So alien, but familiar in the face of the facts,
A feeling of great discomfort came from the spectacle before me,

(What are they?)

As we continued on a second oddity was unveiled,
The masses had always been youthful in form,
But now, as I walked, they aged before me,
Slowly, the man's lids drooped and his skin paled,
Watching in horror, I felt fear coarse through my being,
They did not slow or act as their bodies continued to deform,
Instead they, and the man, remained in their endless exodus,
It was then that I wondered if perhaps they did flee,
For, though their actions disorderly it seemed prearranged,

(What do they seek?)

After some time an antiquated cemetery came into view,
I knew this place, though I had never before visited,
It was in some surreal recollection came the memory,
A place of ashes, dust and the morning dew,
But long had it been since the morn passed away,
I could now make out the moon, though my view limited,
Time had left me on my venture, thus had the day,
And so now sat the moon as the clouds did carry,
But they too trekked on, even as they and the man,

(Where does their path end?)

Ahead they entered the place before and on past my sight,
The man approached the gates and passed inside,
I trailed along to the archway of dark iron and steel,
It's form before me grew menacing, as some strange blight,
It had corroded, but not rust so that it was jagged and bent,
For the first time hesitant, I moved with a tentative stride,
I had resolved to sate my curiosity and I could not were I to stop,
I reached the gate, but passing through a hand I did feel,
It pulled me back with great force and I heard a soft voice.

Only the dead may pass.
Kevis Seymore
Written by
Kevis Seymore  United States
(United States)   
820
 
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