The Face

There is a face in the crowd,

The eyes are focused,

The lips are silent,

As all stories have been,

In the ocean of stories,

Amidst a sea of illusions,

Before a thousand eyes,

Unseen.

Each story is just words,

Sounds upon nothing,

Which live just as long,

As the life of a sound,

With voices that fade,

Along with the heartbeat,

Of the face unseen,

Which you saw in the crowd.

The face cannot be drawn,

For it is not remembered,

Yet behind the eyes,

Breathes a living soul,

Which wept and laughed,

Which danced and cried,

Living the tragedies and triumphs,

Which make us whole.

In a thousand years,

Each face will be dust,

With the children’s children,

Forgotten too,

Yet to learn one face,

And the soul behind it,

Can defined life,

And what is true.