When The World Goes Together Poem by Scott J. Shepard

The entire world is a stage is what they had said.
And so I take my place in the middle, most missed.
At the hype of the moment I discovered an interception
of voices.

An expression of art pathologically defined.

They called out; the crowds, coming together in packs
bending and meshing to fit the fashion of the night.

I discovered my hands moving mountains
My arms in the breeze, swaying like the
semicircle that arches the sky and takes height
at the bow.

All the worlds a stage and so I take my place
But at the end of the day what have I left with.
No more than my own piety play of how the world
should be together and none less than a half inch stitched.

At the end of the day and where is the world?
None less than the world leaving together.