The minute hand passing by
Pages turning over
Nietzsche and then Karl Marx
Philosopher after philosopher
Trying to make sense of my vanished balance
Still squandering, dust within my fingers
On dissipating grounds beneath my feet
Serenity evaporated through that ground
Only to be vanquished by what was more
Powerful- my mind.
Answers, not even one held. As they watched,
Through the glass, all the passer-by’s, between
The books and pages, staring back. Right at me.