Sonderings

The last poem in my Book "A Sondering Soul" I think it sums everything up well

A glimpse can open a gateway, from women wearing matching office skirts, to the slightly faster paced duo �" he, with the brim of his cap peaked to revel single strands of hair forming a fringe. To her, falling always half a footfall behind him. Forcing a skip every fourth step, eyes dull. Lives as intricate as your own. Own family, own set of friends, own wars against others crafted by short comings. Major battles which we find mediocre. 

We can explore those if only for a short moment. Live audio-books of life on the streets from the upstairs of a bus, to following a group of tourists being led around Trinity, availing of a tour from a student with excellent elocution. 

People pointing as they scan between stretch of road and creased map in a constant battle with the wind. Buskers thanking a minority who create a faint applause in public. The upper echelon, sending sub-ordinates struggling with baggage up a concrete staircase. 

Taxi men chancing their luck at junctions, to the dismay of other drivers. But if this is so, that every soul has a soul purpose? Or tomorrow if you were to leave the house and find you and only you functioning, by no fault of your own. 

But your mind for all this time was projecting strangers into your life. Would you be sad to see these strangers go? The office workers, the drug takers, the posh the broke the movers and shakers, the lost the talented, the taxi men. 

It will be then, when the sondering public will end, my friend.