There is a shack

  On the other side

     Of the track.

Where some appear

   And into the pierced dark

      Most disappear.

I guess these people

   Must always be here

      Where you have never been.

Inside of crooked walls

   Where the lights flicker

      And then fall into the night.

Somewhere out there

   A doe dreams

     I pass him sleeping.

I know where he lives

  He is unaware

     I’m alive.

The light goes dark again

   Like a flame

     Live and perish.

Sam Wise is a Montreal-based writer originally from Vancouver, B.C.

He plays the saxophone and is a philosophy student at Concordia University. He tries to merge his lust for spiritual and artistic freedom with his passion for Jazz improvisation and his philosophy to create a raw and serenading text.