All of this is temporary

The City swells with life & you, insignificant, stare at the people & the buildings & the mundane purpose. Overwhelmed by the tide, so an anchor is made:

One must stay busy.

Smoke dances the in rain framed by the sickly-white, luminescent light of the night.

A walk, awake between night & day, surrounded by the City, & always the same shapes:

they’re trying to say something, these buildings, something more than their designer or creators ever intended

I don’t know what it is any more than they do.

So find nearest breath of green & living things;

to tilt your head back, lay down upon the the grass, & stare at the immense & ancient darkness of

the sky…