Posted: August 13, 2012 in Poetry, urban poems

This was an out-of-body experience.
It wasn’t always like this.
We dug deep,
mined at levels beyond ourselves.
Struck gold again and again.
From sidelines thousands
set aside their real worlds.
Reached for the stars.
Embraced them.
Cheered them
as they shot from the dark
and outshone the light.
It ended as it began.
In a furnace,
the heat of flame fusing
our all-over-the-place emotions.
So on a grey grizzle Monday morning,
basking in the aftermath,
we hold a baton and
wonder who we should pass it to.


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