Upon the Silence

...however as he slothfully reclined Banking himself on the cold steel bench Dilemma gripped nastily on his shoulders; The clouds pace above and as if alive Winked at him- pulling memories from behind "Oh yes, we are but a speck of a seed A granule, puny and almost trivial By how- minute as we- pull off an impact Than a lone tree in a dry sunny land And lighted cottage amidst dark forest indeed?" Resounding they truly are, his mentor's words Past and spoken, long uttered in the wind. Yet it reverberates from the turquoise skyscrapers To the bench he sat beside his proud Ford. "For the proper or for the practical thing?" An innocent query shrieking upon the silence. a galleon of betterment versus virtue; The bright clouds blots his space on the wide greenery. "Affirmative." A salmon is going upstream.