Untitled Document
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Pompous Observations
I am guilty.
I watch life from the outside.
I only dream of feeling life again.
Of awakening from the dead numbing
Winter and thriving through joy
But I silently observe
The labors of the late night
Poverty stricken small
Business owners.
The men of skill—the mechanic,
The carpenter, the hair dresser.
I sit on the outside and
Pompously speak the words
That money doesn't matter.
That caring and trust and
Experience is
What matter.
How would I know, a silent
Observer. Sitting, waiting
For the world to happen so
That I can suggest a proper
Translation.
How ignorant and uncaring
Can I be how could anyone trust
Me when they are living the
Lives that I only can see
As I sit silently, perched
On my stick, smiling
Observing.
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