straddling the edge

Written by: Ph.d Volo Von Wolfenstein

those of you who have settled, who have bent over backward for opportunities,
do you care who dies belittled in the backroads of debility, would you
take their place... no,
their fate is to be lost forever
like ghosts, they are black stains on the face of the Host, the Devil, pay no attention
to the scars, they are the signs of homelessness that mar the eye
reminding of the heavy plight of mortality, the heaviest cross is baptized
in the river of loss,
and none would shove experience, none shun love, but if it's a stranger you don't
waste a breath, and share your lungs?
we look everyday and sweep the bothersome
under a heavy rug, I regret these cuffs
of pride placed on those without the blessing of motivation,
those I too went by smiling
lying hopeless and alone,
these are the ghosts of Toronto, dreaming of only a miracle
to protect them on empty streets, they wander with disappearing wings, no family
to help them realize they still have a chance to sing, to reach for the fruit of the earth and be the kings of their destiny,
I yearn for infinity, perhaps there is no kindness
but death.