The Picture Fades Poem by Lynn Stillman

I have seen all of the beauty
that can be seen in this life.
My remote, vantage point,
overtaken by anger and hopelessness
quietly implodes.
I have looked at life
as if it were an oil painting
hanging on the wall.
When you distance yourself from it
you see a well defined picture.
Something with substance.
But as you slowly step closer,
the picture begins to lose it's identity.
I have taken many steps forward
only to find that my many efforts have failed
to leave any impression,
or trace of my existence behind.
Stronger, louder voices
always drown out my own.
Once again they will prevail.
They have succeeded in provoking
my eternal silence.