Friday, December 21, 2012

The Masses are Lost

The Masses are lost.
They drift through water and time
And get stuck on sharp rocks.
They accumulate like trash
Gathering litter by litter
Until the river is clogged
And unsafe to drink from or swim in.

The masses are lost.
They wander the great American wasteland
Wasted and wanting things that leave them wanting.
They thirst for water but drink the sand.
No direction, no plan, no eyes, no hands.
They see mirages as revelation,
Walk in circles as revolution.

The masses are lost,
From the concourse to the catacombs
From Brook’s end to Brooklyn.
They walk the streets like unemployment lines
Waiting for someone to call their number.

Desperation is comfortable, hunger inevitable
Struggle unavoidable, progress unattainable,
Yet here they are mimicking the walk of the purposeful.
They confuse everything with anything.
And not all who wander are lost
But not all who are lost wonder enough to ever find direction.

The masses are lost,
And we are lost without the masses.
Caught in a cycle of tumbles,
I say “keep walking don’t mind the door”
But they’re always showing the rich and hiding the poor
Until we find something worth looking forward…
Something worth looking for.