A Distant Figure
Out of body and given wholly to mind
a nexus for life and time to bind—
again, that distant figure walks away.
So many times,
yes, so many I’ve given chase
only so that it may increase its haste.
But now my being here I lay.
I stay until it finally fades—
gone,
and I’ll pursue no more.
Was I ever meant to catch it?
Who knows?
Yet still that figure comes and goes.
Neither looking nor speaking,
it invites me not,
and I’ve cast it entirely out of thought.
Or so I say.
Tediously marching in endless space,
it once seemed to have a familiar face,
though the eyes were always blank and empty.
Why then do I still wonder
where it may lead me if I follow,
that silent figure with eyes so hollow?