Clouds break and cascading syrup beams of gold stream down upon a crumbling but, still standing shell of a city that was great – then broken – now, still fighting through blinding blood and pain.
Rising silver-laden contrails cover the clouds like a silver sky with a cloud-shaped lining.
Above me, red, yellow and purple waves crash upon the tired city.
Empty tin can dreams – turned nightmares – turned back into stardust dreams blow by, dancing in the wind.
Quicksilver pools of water from the heavens reflect the heavens, laid bare for all to see.
But it’s too soon to call it beautiful.
She smiles and seems to fill with a stunning light from within.
A radiant woman who is of sound mind, body and possibly soul yet still- astoundingly, insanely, incredulously – chooses to be married to a tired, wooden roller coaster of a man.
She looks at me and sees something I don’t – can’t see.
But it’s too soon to say that she’s happy.
A young boy runs to a crumbling man, looking skyward.
He believes in a just world full of truth and happiness that can be snatched from the jaws of fear.
He believes in a sleeping world of 7 billion people who can shrug off their burdens, awaken and fly.
He doesn’t see the broken world that I see.
He sees world of broken toys waiting to be mended, old stories to be rediscovered and a father who can do no wrong.
But it’s too soon to see the stars.
Fog lifts painfully slow, the parting of endless regret and emptiness.
Lights lay beyond, like stars glowing through a midday sky.
The smile doesn’t feel as pasted on, The flesh doesn’t feel like a cage.
Eyes that only seemed to know the dark, adjust slowly to the dawn
But it’s too soon to say that I’m happy.
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