Who is this man who watches me? I feel him and I know him, though he is a stranger. What does he see through his murky eyes? What does he wait for? He has seen my faults and triumphs, and, he monitors my being. My tears are his, But he doesn't cry. No hurt comes to him. He only observes and waits. A Sentinel, A Sentry. Watching in the mists for the awakening, the opening of the eyes of my soul. I dream of him. I dream him. I am him, he is me. Watching me live.
"Vigil" © 2002-2004 displayed with the permission of the author Jerry Riches - Posted Thursday, January 22, 2004.
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