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Penguin Crossing
The Un-Poem

This isn't really a poem, but it didn't belong anywhere else, so it ended up here. This just popped into my head one day, so I wrote it down.

Tears welled as I saw the hooded men carrying him to his eternal grave.They marched solemnly and silently as people stood, heads bowed and respectful. Among the crowd, I stood alone. I did not bow my head, but instead looked on as they passed. Each footstep pounding to the ground. Brown hoods covering their faces in darkness. Eyes watching him, steady on the object of great sorrow. People around me, but no life. Dim trees lurched in the midnight dark. Woe seized and my eyes took me to a different place. Eyes looked back and through me, to a firery hades. He was there, running. The eyes looked into me, saw me. They became one orb. Gently wailing, crying. Making noise with no sound. Piercing, gashing, slashing. My eyes opened impetuously. Once again I saw the polished box with gold symbols embroidered on it. The men pacing through their steady march in the rain. The people stood in darkness, but the moons light shone down on me. I took one last look at the box, polished with mournful sorrow. I too, bowed my head and let the cold rain drip from my hair to my face. Hot tears down my cheeks. And the hooded men passed through.