descent

I wrote this on the way to Philadelphia on December 22, 2013.

the light calls me
slow steady pulses
beckon from the mountains

so far

still I go
but I may find nothing
but I may never return
I may never know

I look down
swirls of red and white
crosses of yellow and orange
sometimes I imagine
green and blue

almost alive

I wonder
do they have joy and cynicism?
do they pray to gods?
is their sky asunder?

I look down
the colors move
and I no longer imagine
those greens and blues

it is a city

there is no doubt
as the wheels touch the ground
and return me to my world

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