In the night of my own city, where the lights and the trees curve their curls into vision wide and, to me, flawless- I aim a cosmopolitan gaze thru my high window and the thinning leaves, toward downtown.
At the highest point of the tallest tower- beacon blinks a bright lonely blue.
A searchlight, a warning.
A companionless, tireless signal. The single letter it speaks it never stutters.
It is the jewel in the top of the crown and its job is to rotate a glisten. To remind living things to try and wager the realities of themselves as best they are able.
So, light, man-made- you are never unseen once you have moved your lamp to address a human being.
what about the paradise of nothing to do?
Moving amongst the grey masses all on their caged tracks and you with nothing only with time to pass in a new circle. Friends to make beyond range of the usual activities. Fresh excitements are a matter of one deep breath after the next.
Unscheduled. Free. Shaken loose from your penciled-in bonds for a short while. Long enough to feel ready for the pull of it again. When it gets close. But that's a while from now.
Now. The beginning of gone. And not where you thought you were going. Not sorry, or disappointed, really. You work thru feelings like that pretty fast. Faster, you think, than others you know. You think.
Here you are with time and money.
All the things you could wish for graspable.
All possibilities where they could possibly find you. Found.