There are gusts sometimes
When my hair is swept
From my eyes and I just feel

The cool wind pull my feet along
The sandy gravel of the path

Lamplight leaving shadows of each  tiny stone
And the branches swaying calmly
Like the blue ribbon on my notebook

A black cat prowls out of an opening
Then stops when she hears me there

And I stand like an actress as she stares
With my hair swaying like reeds
On a grey shore

Like an elevator I will let everybody down
I will lift you up and watch as you leave me
Cold as echoing metal,
Empty

You awoke before the rest
Their sighs and breaths
Disappeared in the dark morning

If only they would wake
And leave you unalone

(Your words stand on my soul
Like a paperweight

There's no need to shout when
You can bore us in-
to a zombie-like state)

Is it sadder I have to
Listen
To you speak

Or

That you have to teach
This *******
To me?

The world looks so different
From down here
Watching birds glide like grey kites
As clouds float together yet lonely
As faces in a crowd

O me! O life!… of the questions of these recurring;
Of the endless trains of the faithless—of cities fill’d with the foolish;
Of myself forever reproaching myself, (for who more foolish than I, and who more faithless?)
Of eyes that vainly crave the light—of the objects mean—of the struggle ever renew’d;
Of the poor results of all—of the plodding and sordid crowds I see around me;
Of the empty and useless years of the rest—with the rest me intertwined;
The question, O me! so sad, recurring—What good amid these, O me, O life?

Answer.

That you are here—that life exists, and identity;
That the powerful play goes on, and you will contribute a verse.