It walks belligerently, often begrudgingly <br />But at least it shares my path. <br />It talks to me at night, a comfort, a wrap, <br />and in the light of my era, it leads me towards it. <br />It is my companion, <br />Whereby otherwise, I would lay alone. <br />It sits atop it's own precipice, <br />Eclipsing all else smothering me in it's entirety. <br />It is a beacon of sorts, <br />Serving the necessity that enables it. <br />It is the past, the present and the future. <br />It is condemning it's content <br />And soothing in it's therapy. <br />It exists for me <br />And I for it. <br />It is devouring, food for recreation, <br />A quick fix for we the mighty, <br />A tonic for our great nation. <br />It absorbs triviality in measures, <br />And did I mention, <br />It is my friend, my foe and my indecision. <br />It buries me in a blanket of calm, <br />Concealing my passion in my folded palm. <br />You'll never walk alone <br />The choir sings <br />Nor alone be entranced, <br />Into submission beyond my means. <br />Ultimately it means little, <br />Or at least nothing more than <br />Obscurity riddled with humility <br />As the big wheel turns, <br />We bow out, <br />Without regrets lest we stare <br />At that which could have been.<br /><br />martin.j. schofield<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/nameless-faces/
