Incoherent

on a long and lonely world
he becomes incoherent
someone meets to ask him
where did he come from
and where he is going
he's got no answers
he sits under a shady tree
and begins to stare at the blue sky
he has not words to say
everyone he meets must go
to leave him in his incoherent silence.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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