Most People

Are the gray halftones,

The watermarks of life alone

Fine outlines most totally unknown

Crafted details only shown if

You take the time,

create the time

To hold them up to light.

It isn’t right but no one does.

They just go on and change

As little as required to get by.

And most of life is the drudge

Of getting by unnoticed

The just getting through it

Somehow, someway to go on

Another night, another day.

Even most of the pleasures

We tout as wonders and joys

Are quiet things without

The noise of exuberance

Just the noticing that something

Did not go wrong is enough

To let us sleep contentedly

On our own dreams, snores

And metaphors.