Pristine walls of unblemished alabaster
joined at entrance's spotless ivory double doors
guarded by row of matching hued colonnades,
set behind emerald lawn of manicured elegance.
Serenity shimmers from the edifice's purity ambience
mind imbued that only peace dwells within,
a sanctuary from chaos, chamber of calm
haven for paths to inner paradise.
But conscience can avoid the intuitive resonance
seeing old man in wheelchair sitting in bay window,
clad in ashen patient's robe, pallor face haggard and vacant
his eyes pleading the dirge of death's impending song.
Purity's facade the mask of social amnesia,
but mind can't stop hearing the psalm one tries to deny,
doing best to silence the sounds
by chasing fleeting youth at concrete circus.
Echoes haunt from those glimpses into tomorrow serenade
muted by pretense of amnesia over time rendezvous
in the pale palace of withering and wrinkles.


3 old applause
