Scattered

heard upon tunes,
the voices,
simple songs stretching
from the distant past,
lost within the reason
of man,
the paint upon their faces,
lost within the traces,
identity here and gone
in the blink of an eye,
scattered in the wind
like sand.
not knowing,
never showing,
reaping and sowing,
a glowing from a light
that never shines,
a fire never owned.
names without meaning,
seeing nothing as the reflection
gazes into the eyes
so empty wanting and not knowing,
question;
a creeping vine ever growing,
a disease
in the spine,
breaking
breaking
all the time,
whether upon wind or rhyme.