Let the red, let the yellow, blue and green streams of hope promise lavender sunsets. I will walk along the river’s muddy shores hearing low whispers, “peace, peace, peace.” I will walk below jet gray skyscrapers that prick the passing elephant pastel clouds.
The word on the streets rushes, hushes rips, lifts, chills, thrills, bends, rends, sends the eyes upward! Back then forth. Streets then alleys then, gone. Fear, no euphoria. Half- known, unknown. The rush. The wonder. The whoosh of mid- May. Hints of re- birthing showers.
Word, inhaled that past moment, thrusts back through vocal chords exhales: joy. Timeless moment. Alone, not alone. Walking along with the thousand voice choir singing, pleading with unconscious thoughts.
The rocks cried out, “peace like blue between clouds.” Love bent beautiful as yellow sunflower petals, blue- green flowing blades spread across great plains toward that unpicked cherry which descends to ascend. To that end I walk. Not to the sunset but to the sunrise. Each song passed in, passed out.