The Fading Man
We know the wind for but a moment;
A short moment in time..
A simple moment that just becomes
A fading thought in mind
For the wind shall come
And it shall pass
In moments throughout the day.
This it knows
And thus it blows,
And swiftly fades away.
And some would say
About the man
That stands on silent street
"He's just a drifter
Who has no home
But stops to rest his feet."
This drifter in his quiet moment
Is just a silent man
That stands against an old brick wall
With a white cup in his hand.
He does not ask for money though.
Water fills his cup.
You see, he's resting
Only resting
Before his time is up.
Soon he'll begin to walk
And he'll do so without a friend
For he is all he seems to have
Yet, his journey does not end.
He'll never tell about his dreams
Or where he lies to sleep
Or if he rises with cheerful laugh
Or does he rise to weep?
He'll never tell of where he's been
And those of us who wonder
Shall never know his treasured secrets.
He'll leave us here to ponder.
He'll leave this place without "Good-bye"
And he'll tell no one his story.
And none of us shall really know
What brings to him sweet glory.
And now he begins to walk,
So slowly without a friend
For he is all he seems to have
As he travels with the wind.
He's only known for but a moment;
A short moment in time
A simple moment that just becomes
A fading thought in mind.
For he shall come,
And he shall pass
In moments throughout the day.
This he knows
And thus he goes
And swiftly fades away.
~T.S. Wilkins~
