The Mute Witness

He reclines in a corner
To watch us rise and fall
And win those rat races
And be rats, after all.

He nods at every opening,
Looks up at every end.
He neither plots and schemes,
Nor shoulders like a friend.

He watches love a-blooming
And wilting in the summer,
Withstanding tempests booming
And seeking winter cover.

He notices how success
Like beauty, runs skin deep,
How we smile at the masses
And cry alone in sleep.

We search and look for something;
He does not wonder what.
Perhaps he does not bother
(perhaps it’s what we’ve got).

He stifles another yawn
As we hold up all our glories.
We recite our mighty fables;
He knows the real stories.

He calmly sees our despair
In trying times of trouble.
He neither tests our faith,
Nor tells us it’s a bubble.

The final tally comes
And we measure rise and fall.
Only he, though, gets it right;
He, the mute witness of all.

– October 2013


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