Nothing gets to me quite like the silences between people. Technology has pushed us so far apart and it bugs me. While not overtly about it, I doodled a small poem that encompasses some of my feelings about this hushed separateness. No claim to poetry, no rhyme, rhythm, or form.
A Morning Fog:
The day is breathless this morning,
A stifling thick
Has lain itself across the world,
A most welcome intruder.
Echos of the dawn,
Are choked off by the
Unmoving, stagnant mist,
Leaving shadows gasping for light.
Downtown silhouettes,
Hunched, hands tucked into pockets,
Stand, blasting white air,
Waiting for late transit busses.
Others walk hurriedly,
Steps muted on the wet concrete.
We are all together within the fog,
And yet miles apart,
Divided by the intentions
Of a rogue social evolution,
And rapidly spinning farther from each other,
As the generations turn and turn.
The University grounds lay
Flecked in frost,
While peaks and Corinthian columns
Are lost in the struggle between
a blue light and the white haze.
Black silhouettes now give way to
Pastel colour.
Yet backs remain hunched,
And steps still brisk.
Together in the fog and yet
Eternities apart,
A gap ever growing.
We are all drowning in the quiet
Of the mist,
But the noise that propels the silence
Is deafening,
Is resounding through time
To ages we will never know.
Oh, finally, the Sunrise!
