The Empty Many

Hand-full of pills and cup of coffee fills
On the same new day, to begin the same way;
Eyes shot, tired, weary, falling and bleary;
Here he sits again with computer chip bits,
Luminous screen with financial scene too lean,
Bottom line skinny, not even a shining penny;
He turns and churns, absently stares in agony,
This man so odd, leaning left, palate cleft;
No chest, no need with not a heart to plead
From seed of love, nor deeper creed to lead
To higher heights of meaning; he’s careening
Always back to his own demeaning employment
With no enjoyment as he lives through hours
With shattered soul bowers in business towers.
But is this man now living or merely existing?
Or is there more? Some door to rustic floor
Of better days, raw, pure, awesome and secure?
Ah, now no more pills and cup of coffee fills
On the same new day, to begin the same way…

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