The Invisible

Gaze upon me, you may find nothing other than a stern look,
A negotiable smile, a smirk or even calmness of a silent desert.
Never has, what you gaze upon, given up or made up a look.
The mirror hates me for what I am, you hate me for what I am.
So I am invisible.

I cant sing, but that is no crime. My sound is neither faint nor harsh,
But does that make me a eunuch to be avoided ? Understand dear ones,
It is not the wood that creates the music, but the air that passes.
But without the wood, air is just air. Now tell me, what I am.
The wood, the air or the music.

I am always there, you know that. I gape at you as a fool.
You pass right through my salty flesh which is just like yours.
I am not painted in white, black or red nor do I have masks of vanity.
I am not asking you to be with me. I ask you to remind me what I am.
Soul, body or a name.

You don’t know the answer. You don’t because you don’t know me.
I am every thing that is invisible. I am death , the new hope.
I am what lies beyond the horizon, I am the zenith. I am the stench.
I am what you are not. You may have questions about what I am,
Not even god can answer them.