The Lost

By Cliff Lake

 

The Lost

 

He is lost.

He knows where he is,

But he is lost.

Here are the familiar landmarks:

The library,

The gas station,

The church.

But the people speak strangely:

Making talk-noises rife with dire insignificance,

As if to affirm their humanity,

And still avoid commitment.

Conversing with words borrowed from television,

Or found in the picture magazines,

Full of faces,

Beautiful people the most could never be.

He is lost.

He speaks ideas at some,

Who wish him well

Out of taut countenances

Full of nothing,

And avoiding all.

They satisfy the status quo,

And are satisfied by it,

Even in the midst of poverty,

And ruin.

For they will not grow past themselves,

Seeking sameness in all things,

In each other,

For they find safety in the dull,

And hide among each other,

Keeping their eyes cast away from the new,

The unusual,

And the unexpected.

For they are lost,

And they mean to remain so.

 

Cliff Lake 11/27 and 28, 2024

Copyright © Clifford Lake 2024

 

 

 

Location: Wichita, KS, USA

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