Passerby


Passing you on the street, my eyes seek yours, in silent greeting...
But your eyes slide over me without reaching mine....our souls missed that connection....mine craves it, but yours denies it....
I am more than this vessel of flesh and bone...
I am a dying breed...
Unlike so many of my brothers and sisters....
My heart is open.....My eyes are clear....
I see you.......for all that you are....
......and I love you......
I love you for the struggle I see reflected in your eyes....
In that small moment, as my eyes held yours....I realized your pain, your faults, your aspirations...
Did you really not notice me?
Is my soul really so silent that you cannot hear it?
I like to think that the benevolence of my soul is reflected in what I do....but maybe that is not the case...
If you could so easily dismiss me,so easily discard me.... Than who am I really?
Surely not this being of compassion that I imagined.....surely you could not so easily turn away from me if my soul really radiated all that I feel....
Than who am I? If not the martyr in the dark.....
What is reflected when you look in my eyes?
Am I merely a burden to your peripheral?
Does my body shame me?
Does my image cancel out the intention of my spirit?

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This Poems Story

How I seek a connection with everything I encounter. I am fascinated with the world and its inahabitants.