They are the fingers that reach toward the clouds
In the distance faint barking within the crowds
In the final season within my inner mind
Soon to be back in the rolling hills that know me
Croaking frogs at the ponds edge
Things that whisper to me in the quiet
Of the nights that never seem to end
As I dwell in the city of zero tolerance
In these ending times I observe
Behind those eyes in the crowd
Their true meaning cleverly concealed
Contrary to my father's discouragements
Confirming my childhood suspicions
It is best to observe and avoid the mix
Yet there are some who beckon in sincerety
As light fades in places where it is already dim
A different insight begins to reveal
Realization that hope resides within despair
Perhaps you will find a part of me
Along the boardwalk in Coney Island
Or glimpsing someone with their finger raised
Into the air giving the familiar call
In my departure I will go as mysteriously as I arrived
None the less every experience
Rememberance shall always be with me
Beyond my final season amongst the skyscrapers
~Moses~
© 2007 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved
