What happens to a person that knows no one?
What happens when their beating heart marches to its last tune,
When his or her life is struck down far too soon?
What happens to this hermit of a creature,
Who knows only what’s visible through the foggy lens of a window pane?
Will the world ever hear the thud of his dreams meeting their crashing demise,
Within a world unvisited by mortal ears?
Will friends and loved ones run to the hills,
When the brevity of his aspirations shriek their last dying cry?
Is there such a thing as an unknown man,
Invisible to everyone and everything except his very own fears?
Does anything happen when this man’s flowing tears well through the years,
In a silent passage of a stream that carves its way through a canyon of dreams?
One to know must grasp the failing seeds of success,
Planted unfruitful in the destructive force of unrelenting snow.