You are a stroller, walker, wanderer,
idle and dispassionate observer
of the vulgar and sullen
sceptre of human
repair.
You will back-up, swerve, curve, climb or descend
to near or far, but never to go straight and
rarely slow, to step outside the alien
apathy of the freshly colonized
collective hubris of
modernity.
You have emerged from the bohemian shadows,
neither fish nor fowl, absent such suffocating
boundaries as the flesh, incarnate from the
repressed shallows of a disparate society
to reanimate a new space born deep
within a consciousness of restraint;
now rendering your clarion
call.
You are no longer the ambient observer
of remote urbanity, but modernity
on your own path to source
all life's nuances both
fleeting or
remis.
Châz
