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Like an unsteady tread
I come to know
About solace.
The city never sleeps,
But it is always tired.
Eyes shut, don’t look.
I shelter just outside the door.
Between each tread
On stairs too sheer to climb, the gaps expand.
We know already how it ends.
Small things come to mind.
Their particular motion describes
Soft laugh tiring to a smile,
Still misses the precise moment.
Circles of silence yet expand.
Another city
Or another country -
Temperate stairs spirally wind up
Treading unsteady solace.
Fast leaving the later scene
Idiot highways run
Drowsy -
Stumbling once or twice.
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Dance of .Destiny
