By Sebastian Temlett

How can it be put down, taken out

To show what’s within?

The tunnelled trees in yellow light

As my feet find grey road beneath starry night

A cripple lies, eyes wide as I see him

I walk home upon his

And those stars above mean too little, too vast

A cough from a window as this stranger walks past

I glance up at the heavens that ask my purpose once more

As the city churns this night, in a grinding roar

And it pours like blood, red from my heart

Mind cupped to catch it in attempted start

But words fall short and an image stands too still

How can I begin?

I cannot find it nor feel it outside of within.

Photo by Sebastian Temlett


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