Untitled Poem 1

Several people pass on a crowded street. Their faces locked in personal universe.

A horn blows. Steam rises from a grate. It's cold. Faded asphalt. Buildings are tall. A siren wails.

Still the faces revolve around the individual mind. Mechanical. For one to speak or gaze at another would cause disruption of reclusive emotion.

Lonely is the status quo. He rules. He is bitter. He is crass. Sarcastic. He likes hollow souls.

Rounding a corner a young couple stands, kissing, passion oblivious to evasive feelings. Lonely sees them. He doubles and is felled like a leave falling in a windless void. He first turns a cheek if not to stare.
But power envelops his being. He turns, bleeding from the heart. Erect. Still. Peers into the souls of the couple. It's full, warm, and secure. There is no bitterness, hate, jealousy. Lonely finds love.