An unknown face.

An unknown face.

I appear in all your stories.

I walk in;

I walk out:

The unacknowledged.

I leave the scene

And ask for no raised heads,

Or polite smiles,

Or fiestas in my name.

I partake in everything

But you scarcely know I'm present.

I arrive,

And I'm gone;

Before you even know the present's present,

Or reflection has cast its hands upon you.

An unknown face,

With no requests,

Will burn on inside you until your stories

Are buried with your crumbling vessel.

An unknown face

Will be cast to the wind

In an offering to some memory

That passes through you

As a brief shudder,

Which you soon discard.

An unknown face

Makes unknown bones

But permits a quiet dignity,

Existing on the fringe of all you might ever see,

That those of fame will never know.

I ask only that you be,

And smash mould against mould;

And from the dust make new moulds;

And never live by example,

Because example begets lame children

That know not the fullness of reason or purpose.

An unknown face

Will never haunt your dreams

Or infect your nightmares;

It will only pass you by,

Quiet in all its triumphs and horrors.

An unknown face is yours,

And mine,

And theirs;

As we stumble in the dark,

Searching the features.

One day, I will pass you by,

And you will not know me;

But you will feel my actions

In the ripples I make in the world.

I make few ripples:

My ripples are absorbed by the features of the Earth.