The Silent Man

A poem about perception.

The silent man

The silent man walks alone in a crowded place
Searching the gaps in the flesh with sombre eyes
The movement of humans is like the gentle brush of the wind
He keeps them separate, so as not to clutter his life

The silent man needs nowhere to hide
You don’t see him even in plain sight
He lives by measuring time for himself
He disregards your day and your night

The silent man has lost his faith
He excludes himself from society
He can’t begin to fathom why
He just judges us all on what he sees

The silent man is in a constant state of war
Between his compassion and embitterment
He hates us sometimes for our ways and sins
But his attachment is rooted in blood

The silent man’s head is full of dark
He opens his eyes from time to time
And tries to let in light
Wondering if how he sees us is how we are