One man walks two abreast.
Unaware of those before.
Thoughts dwelling only on a destination.
His mind saunters between himself, dragging its feet.
He tugs lightly at his coat.
Grey faces mill around as a sea, turbulent and utterly unimportant.
His steps falter at times though he travels at a constant.
The only constant he knows or requires.
His wake ripples outwards, easing apart minds from their thoughts.
Faces grimace at his backs as he lumbers forward.
This chaotic ocean seems as but air to him, though he does not breath.
The current holds no power on his form.
It is but a breeze, and a nuisance.
This one man walks two abreast,
ever moving through our world,