The Melancholy of Insignificance

I dreamt of a man once,deep into the desert
Trying to put together his broken heart
By papering over the cracks with his broken fingernails
And building his rib cage,like a barbed wire fence
With words,stolen from the lips of ordinary men
Like one more thin gypsy thief
Sorrow bloomed in his eyes
Like a cherry parfait
And he carried the same mark
Of all beings loved too little,too late
He spoke the common tongue
With clarity and conviction
He had the common touch
One that has stood it’s trial
In the festival of insignificance
For tens of thousands of years
He has roamed from road to road
From home to home
He has been a prisoner of distance
Like an ill-fated shipwreck,in the middle of pacific
He sung songs,one after another
As words grew bitter by the hour
Till there were no more surviors
And his voice eaten,with desire
Crashed on his ruby lips
Like a runaway train,with no one in
Of mandatory insignificance
That he has endured,as one endures
When one walks one step too far