A while ago, I posted a short narrative story/poem that no one understood. I've decided to now explain it. There are two different ways to look at this poem. I will outline both.

Literal Meaning:

The streetlamps shone through breaks in the thinning branches of low hanging trees lighting what was left of each leaf with an ominous orange glow. Still, there was no fear.

This is simple. It's just a description of what everything looks like.

The distant whistling seemed out of place in the night air as light shuffling sounds of sneakers on pavement interrupted the wind-carried tune. This was the beginning of our end.

Walking in silence, you can only hear the sounds of shoes on the floor and in the background you hear a whistling sound.

Things are different in the dark. What life the city gave us it also took away leaving all those who walk her streets under starless skies to wonder where the sun shines now. He walked ahead of me passing beneath the manmade comforts of a town and I watched as the mercury light blanketed his outline with soft light then fell away again leaving the world before me empty once more: Like a ghost fading in and out of reality.

In the distance, the whistling continued--calling for the lost children we all are and threatening our grasp on what's real.

In the background, the whistling still sounds attempting to confuse us.

He stopped.

"We can't turn back, can we?" he asked, invisible against the future.

Without words, the answer was clear. "There's no going back when you don't know where you're coming from."

The whistling in the distance was unperturbed and, following myself, I continued towards it--or away from it...the hollow song offered no clues.

The whistling in the distance is not worried or bothered by his question and the narrator...who at this point you find out is actually alone and was talking to him/herself...walks not knowing where the whistling is coming from.

The ...other meaning:

The streetlamps shone through breaks in the thinning branches of low hanging trees lighting what was left of each leaf with an ominous orange glow. Still, there was no fear.

This is here to represent the surrealism of the situation.

The distant whistling seemed out of place in the night air as light shuffling sounds of sneakers on pavement interrupted the wind-carried tune. This was the beginning of our end.

Again, to introduce the surrealism of the situation. Here, it is meant to give you a sense of emptiness and awareness of the surroundings. The whistling represents a distant call, driving us forward or away from life...it's what keeps us moving forward. The sound of sneakers represents the disruption caused by our daily lives to our understanding of existance--kind of a commercial to the meaning of life.

Things are different in the dark. What life the city gave us it also took away leaving all those who walk her streets under starless skies to wonder where the sun shines now. He walked ahead of me passing beneath the manmade comforts of a town and I watched as the mercury light blanketed his outline with soft light then fell away again leaving the world before me empty once more: Like a ghost fading in and out of reality.

Our lives as we live it are too busy for us to realize what's happening to us. When we finally get that time to reflect on how we live and what we've accomplished, we realize how pointless things have been. We begin to regret and wonder 'what the hell happened'. 'He' walks under the 'manmade comforts' representing our dependence on routine and order as enforced by our society. 'He' fades in and out of reality reflecting how up-and-down life is right now. Sometimes we have all the answers, other times we have none.

In the distance, the whistling continued--calling for the lost children we all are and threatening our grasp on what's real.

The whistling confuses us more than anything else. We can't tell what's real and what's not...we can't figure out what we want in life anymore.

He stopped.

"We can't turn back, can we?" he asked, invisible against the future.

Here, 'He' is simply asking about the past...turning back the clock.

Without words, the answer was clear. "There's no going back when you don't know where you're coming from."

Not only is it 'no' simply because it's impossible for us to do so, but it is also 'no' because we don't know what the past really is for us.

The whistling in the distance was unperturbed and, following myself, I continued towards it--or away from it...the hollow song offered no clues.

The whistling isn't bothered...whether or not we ask the questions we ask about life, the 'whistling' still drives us forward...or back. We cannot tell whether it is the whistling that we are running -to- or -away from-...and it never bothers telling us.