Seas of people moving without being moved.
And no calm in their wake.
Only rushing tides and trends, through time.
Trampling over feet with current undertows.
And spiritual overtones, drowned out in the noise of the city.
Underfoot, on sidewalks where every walk of life has tread in the rushed hourly commutes, mid mourning.
Back and forth like water.
Stopping and going under bright light indicators of color-coated instructions.
And violations for stepping out of line.
My spirit longs to get away.
It longs for the green lights of sky scraping treetops begging for higher heights.
For the yellow, slow-motion, sun lit sky over an open field.
And a deep-red, dusk horizon with its arresting beauty.
The wonders seen in simpler things.