Published on: 3/12/2010
Marketplace Scenes

For Socrates

In the opiate dreams of an early morning
Dignified and stinking the multitudes rouse
What drives them on in fractured light?
"Permit me a trespass", I asked the old frog
I saw a truth in him
I saw distraction
"How have we come to be here, you and I?"
It was simple enough but I couldn't help feeling
I was letting something slip through
My grasp
It was as if in asking my question
I had my answer
I looked out on a sea of souls
Some of them young
Some old
I listened for the sounds of the living
I heard the screaming dead
A blind beggar woman sat
Rocking back and forth
On the steps of the temple
God was not here
The morning gave up,
As noon time took over
I charted the movement of the sun
Through the sky
And shouted,
"WE ARE NOT HERE!"
My teacher turned to me
A slight smile parted his features
"Then your home shall be the sky."