Of Mice And Men Poem by I.J. Benjamin

when meaning has faded away
like the dawn resided the day
and you have no sense of purpose
but the loneliness of each second
or the cheap happiness of a
two word rhyme, you'll see
a man smoking, gazing into the sky
fearing, doubting, questioning
what is it, and why?
A life composed of events
bound by not a single thread
and the woman in the blue dress
watching children throwing snowballs
sighing, doubting, knowing
for the uglyness seeks itself a place
where her beauty is unwelcome.

But it wasn't always like this,
oh no,
lost souls were once beacons of more hopeful
seas
and the air between us
was not always cold
nor planted with doubt
and the words once sang loud in the churches
and even louder inside.

And often the realisation that it's gone
is the only thing you have.
And yet,
I can feel the snow on my cheek,
I can feel the wind on my cheek,
It is true, the Gods are cruel but,
that is all i have, and now i ask of you
don't let it slip out of your hands,
no matter how old or young or trembling,
don't be like so many others,
wasted, withering, dying inside,
hold it, feel it, alight it with a flame
let it burn for a second, not more,
only enough,
only so that it would burn a hole
through a heart of those with no
heart.