William Schryver poet/songster whoda thunk any others?

[_Nightlion]

On the Outskirts

You step towards the window
See the crowd within
A chosen generation
Each one friend or kin

The porter smiles welcomely
But passage is preferred
The sacred strain is raised
You strain to catch the words

You linger on the outskirts
For a while as you weep
Then fade into the shadows
Of a distance dark and deep

On the outskirts
You never feel the flame
On the outskirts
No one knows you came


Who can tell the chosen
From the many who are called
What is it makes the difference
Between the rise and fall

The prayers of the striving
Whispered through the tears
Or broken vows of virtue
Littered through the years

You stand outside the open gates
Crying with the song
Then walk away once again
Wishing you’d belong

On the outskirts
No one knows your name
On the outskirts
Who else can you blame

Summer 2003
Cedar City, UT
©2006 William Schryver, All Rights Reserved