The Outer Edge

(Day 2 of the Poem-A-Day in April 2009 exercise)

All around about the outer edge
The misty borders rise in ordered rows.
And just along a solitary hedge
The shadow of a shadow slowly grows.
What manner of a man, if man he be
Is he who in this desolation goes?

The name he had, discarded long ago,
So nameless now he roams from hill to vale
And gazes long into the towns below
And ponders on a long and weary tale:
What paths have brought him here for him to see
A place where he is still beyond the pale?

Tomorrow likely finds him far from here
Trudging towards another, farther scene
His sorrow locked inside a single tear
His face in stone, his features long and lean.
About his shoulders one might faintly see
The outlines of a faded empty dream.

Tonight, he’ll camp out here beyond the light
While fires and heat and human kindness live
Below in cities wrapped in neon night
While on the heath, the winds no comfort give.
The outer edge of all humanity:
A world that will not forget nor forgive.