Silent March

Silent March

The silent panoply of souls
Crossing paths,
Each on its own tangent
Of the soul search.

No sound even of footsteps
On this muted day.
Even the sun not breaking
The white canopy with its warmth.

But the scene is not cold,
Only subdued.
And in its silence
The entities move
With the energy of purpose
To meet today’s goals.

The rushing water
Of the central fountain,
Like the rushing surge of feeling
Beating in each breast.
No sound besides,
But an occasional bird,
A single voice,
A laugh punctuating the hush.

The silent throng rushes by
Through the foggy mist
To places where each will learn –
Perhaps –
A direction for finding self,
And purpose,
And a measure of fulfillment.
Or perhaps
More confusion.