Sieges Even

I search the missing link
that interlinks the tattered ends of a chain undone
I watch the faceless shades passing by in lethargic state,
dreaming of something to occur.
I walk through canyons of concrete where the poet gets lost
and a walking eye weeps, where no visionary dares to reside.
And I sense Sisyphus climbing the hill with panting steps
for this sad time weighs his run.
In every waking hour
In any kind of golden light
In every moment of conception
In every hour you try to feel