Touching Surfaces Poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar

Touching surfaces.
Left to dust.
And compelled to do this,
I feel I must.

Revealing to see,
What isn't often seen...
And chanced upon accidentally,
Seems obscene...
To someone like me curious and obsessed,
With questions as to why...
A truthfulness hidden,
Isolated to hide.
And why?
In such darkened corners.

Touching surfaces.
Left to dust.
And compelled to do this,
I feel I must.

And 'why'?
I am left to wonder...
Is this surface covered up in dust?
Left to rust?

And why?
I am left to wonder...
Is the purpose for this surface,
Allowed to crumble from the effects of rust?

Is the purpose to have it thought useless?
Until no one gives a...
Desire of wanting to know,
Whatever it was and gives up?
Or dares?

Touching surfaces.
Left to dust.
And why?
I am left to wonder...
Is the purpose for this surface,
Allowed to crumble from the effects of rust.
Until no one gives a...
Desire of wanting to know,
Whatever it was and gives up?

Well...
It has to be connected,
To a truthfulness left.
And concealed for that purpose.
Or it would not be hidden,
And left covered up to dust.

And as I begin to brush away the dust...
Hushed footsteps I hear.
Hushed footsteps are clear and near,
To silence my curiosity.

'Who is it and WHY,
Have you gone beyond your limits?
Who is it and Why...
Invades? '