THE PASSER-BY

Life seems to pass me by
like the clouds, the rivers,
it flows along, unbothered,
as if waiting for me is too exhausting,
it drifts like stopping for me would never be of worth.
the stars sometimes come and go,

as if the sight of me is disappointing
I used to have dreams too you know,
of life, not above the clouds
just right here.
I've dreamt of nights where life would be filled with cheer and song,
but this metallic town runs on hoarded gold
and since I had none of the latter,
they made me hold on no more.
So days and months pass me by,
following it goes my life,
dismissive of the living,
unaware of the surviving and
uncomprehending of me.

By Uvini Weerasinghe