Where The Circle Ends

Mountain ranges Morning red bathed ridges Stab up at the trembling blue horizon Grey slides lazily off rooftops Lands on the Incandescnent ground and dies A flock of little men touch down on the thin surface of the porchlight Dawns footsoldiers return To match twilight across our faces Skylights ignite and explode Scattering shards of april around the room No one even lives here We're too busy crashing our cars every morning at the same house Paving the same roads Unwilling to walk them And even when we extend ourselves, its only to be included In a moment that stands still So often we don't struggle to improve conditions We struggle for the right to say "we improve conditions" And so often we form communities Only to use them as exclusionary devices We forget that somewhere a man is beside himself with grief We forget that somewhere peope are calling out for teachers And no one is answering Somwhere a man stands, walks across the room, and breaks his nose Against the door And somewhere these people are keeping records And writing a book For now we can call it "The Book About the Basic Flaw" Or "The Book About the Letter "A" Or "Any Title That a Book About a Man That No One Cares About Might Have" And as we turn the pages we call out the sounds of nothing Of a vanishing alphabet Standing here waiting