The World has no place for us:
The Listeners of the Unseen.
Oh, the World says they have a place, of course:
We use the same words, but speak a different language.
We see the same pictures, but see different things within them.
We conform to no side - and so we are neither.
We are the Invisible.
We have sunk within the cracks of sidewalk,
hidden away in the sunlit bits of soil amidst the grey landscape,
returned to the hills and forests:
sometimes only the wind knows where to find us.
Perhaps we will never come again into the light of the World,
into its entertainment and economy,
its vain pleasures and whitewashed matters of importance
that fade with every social trend.
The World has no place for us,
and yet we live on the fringes,
far more alive than the World.