All the way along a beaten brick
thought we can let pass
for a road these days-
the saturation can be seen.
the dances of an angst ridden sky
can be traced through the elegant
cold, light bending droplets
eminating from it's ever present
depression.

Slowly, i can see umbrellaed drones;
carressing their telephones as only children-
protecting them for dear life,
as they are the livliehood of these
bleak, stark days.
As they rush to their freedom and safety
oblivious to the sky's dillema
(which has been playing out on these streets for several slowmotion moments)
concerned with their own eternal loop of
consciousness.

This day, the gray feeling is
mutualism- knowing we are just
filling in the big blank so that
the future has other blanks to fill;
But this lost future,
will have no past to thank-
for the spitting, spiteful sky
will answer to the end
and the end alone.
the hate slowly built up
between it's stuttered sputters
of dreams mixed with water-
and clinging to microscopic
particles of dirt-
it will be unleashed and
left without abandon to wage war
on an unassuming world-
war that we can not ignore.
war that will devistate what
so devistated it's mother.

So, Cling to your precious
Newborn joy and love-
as you will undoubtedly have
four walls (that will crumble
under an angry breath)
that you should get to-

the sky could part at any second.

04/16/2003

Posted on 04/17/2003
Copyright © 2025 Andrew S Adams