Outsiders walk among the crowd
acting as if they might belong
this is a measure that’s half true
or perhaps less in certitude
the illusion is firmly cast
that all are same as consequence
of spared space and like time
the mirage that gods provide

the end result is felt by most
blessings showered on those below
treasures collected by the group
then divided by the sightless ones
cooperation bestows these gifts
with a downfall few admit
between the spaces of liaison
sadness hides in front of all

even as the voice may say
declarations that others dread
by the virtue of vaulted space
disallowing the replied attacks
the same chasms deny contact
consideration by word or deed
while the prophet may have their say
the flock stands alone across the break

comfort found across the breadth
having all including lack
these are the bars that form a wall
between the one and other folks
the last need is sorely missed
solace only met midway
when the comfort of the touch,
is surely lost before it’s found.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190413.