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Gray shrouds cover my way
sets the tone for the day.
Our silent sun sends
rays running round corners
slowly beams burn off -
melting morning misty mind.

As I tread these stone slabs
rapt in wonder of this awe,
great stone bones in it all.
Metropolis makes stirring sounds
anxiously awakens around me.
Rails screech like prehistoric birds,
wind whistles through tunnels twirling,
chatter and honks and hums.
Hear humanities' street symphony.

Parkways sever city canyons.
I cross white striped asphalt rivers,
pass primal Ponderosa stone spires.
Wary walls of glassy eyes glare at me.
Watch my droll daily drudge passively
through towering hollow statues.
I arrive to hug my office door,
seeking some soulful signal.

This inner city, my sentimental friend:
now I'm fearful this soon will end.
Put my face flush on its stone skin,
felt a mounting tear in my eye,
trickled out down between,
turned my head to kiss its skin.
Felt raspy, tasted of grit.
Like kissing a corpse.

Then pulled back and looked up
its everstill edifice to the sky.
Poses the query who am I?
And there I stood a while and thought.
How can we be one?
How can it be me?


Color Pencil illustration G. Gaul
Free Verse Philosophical look at inanimate
stone city structures and the 
universal concept of oneness.





11/17/2019

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