Silent Dust

In the silence of the roadside dust,

he lay—

a still life of brokenness,

clad in the tattered cloth of yesterday.

Fate, with an ironic smile,

had kissed his brow,

left a grin, eternal, unchanging,

while the world browsed on and took a bow.

Untouched by the concerned glances

of passing souls,

they moved on to greener fields,

chasing civic goals.

His eyes, glazed

with the frost of apathy,

ignored the universe,

content in their own tragedy.

One hand lay helpless on his chest,

the other, a futile fist in earth—

while his silence screamed a thousand words

and his stillness gave them worth.

I lifted him from the cold hard ground,

carrying his weight like a shield—

and we danced, a pair of shadows,

across the cosmic field.