Unaware Of Who They Meet Poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar

A freedom given to undermine,
Shows all of the signs...
Of a road chosen to take,
Of being closed.
With no possibility,
Of a welcomed returned.

Conscious may be those,
Of this movement made.
But most times those bridges burned...
Leave those who do them,
Unaware of who they meet.
Or...
Who constructed those bridges!
With a sensitivity.
And now despise those who do not appreciate,
The craftsmanship taken to develop their art!

'How petty thou art,
Not! '

As they hold all keys,
Unknowingly to the many...
Approaching destinies and doors,
To which keys held they hold...
Unlocks to open.

Or blocks to be left closed,
If so wished!
And none of this is known,
By those who burn and choose to roam.

'How petty thou art,
Not!
But if pushed to the brink...
Could and can be! '