Walking By

Can you hear the whisper
On the breath of a lifeless leaf
Floating softly to the withered ground
To sit upon the mud, soft and sound?

Can you see the transparent vision
In the moonlit puddle on the windless night
Shinning back at your sight so silently
As a carefree image of beauty?

When did you last stop
Breath, listen, and see
All that maybe could be
In your perceptions?

And in a turn we leave
And head for the future
In a past means of expression
To discover the above mentioned.

Only the moon sails below the horizon
As we walk through the puddle
Into the muffled society
And drowned out reality.

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