The City

The limousine pulls to the kerb
footman steps forward, opens the door
immaculate suited man emerges
and walks into the hotel.

The traffic rolls by in endless streams
buses and cars go by constantly
people fill the footways
in various types of dress.

Everyone with some purpose
moving in confusion in all directions
some going, some coming, some just standing
not knowing which way to go.

On the other side of the street
sits a beggar, old hat between his feet
most people just walk by, no conscience,
oblivious of others less fortunate.

The city noises continue to roll
a complicated jumble of sounds
no one listens, just go their way
each one with a purpose of their own.

What is the point of all this confusion
as mankind lives his life alone
and yet inexplicably woven
with all of others' fates.

The stench and bustle of life
all take part yet few know why.
How many are even conscious of others?
How many conscious of themselves?

What would happen if all this stopped
the streets left empty, footpaths bare
buildings deserted, nothing moving
silence prevailing everywhere?

Do we really know where we are going
what we are doing and why?
would our planet really care
if mankind ceased to exist?

Time will answer this poignant question
but for each of us the clock will stop.
We will not care, for we will sleep
six feet down where silence reigns.

The flowers still grow and bloom
the trees still shed their blossom
they wither and die but their seed lives on
and so it is with man.

Above and around us the city lives on
while some mourn our passing,
and so it was in life, how few we knew.
Perhaps death is the only answer.
 

Bob King
copyright 07 April, 1999