Mute

A light flickers on,
reflections taint soil;
all these images
are useless to a mind
without midnight's dance.

Disheartened folks
stutter on their feet,
wobbling past time
and dead to the chill.

How can one hear
when a soul is weeping?

I grasp my chest
feeling existence
pulse ahead of life,
I must first sit in
and watch how
a heart is constructed.