Semblance of Faces

Come with me and watch the parade
Where the endless semblance of faces
March steadily to the graves they made
Not one retaining their heavenly graces.

They know not where their path may lead
Despite their empty hopes onward tread
Down paths which long ago began to concede
all the buried remains of a dying river’s bed.

Their faces react in new ways as they talk,
They create a façade; they feign the art
Of shock as their faces first move then lock,
As they try to mimic the eyes of the heart.

And yet as we stand, looking from on high.
My eyes staring intently, my heart races.
I start to think possible all life to all be a lie,
Perhaps I want to join this semblance of faces.