The Mass

The mass awaits,
The human mass –
The swirl of all
That comes to pass,
Each man and woman,
Lad and lass,
With stories told
In steel and glass,
Initials on
An overpass,
And notes we pass
In back of class.

The mass awaits,
The surging throng –
With passions hidden,
Deep and strong,
And hopes that thrive
Though time grows long,
And choices made,
Both right and wrong;
With poems mumbled
Into song,
And nights where we
Just tag along.

The mass awaits,
It’s time is here,
For one like me
Who sees the mass

With fear

Author: Owen Servant

Owen "Beleaguered" Servant (a/k/a Sibelius Russell) writes poetry mostly, with an occasional pause to have a seizure.

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