Eyes open, I wander the streets looking for subtle differences
They protrude like well worn corners, now slightly knobby
I can almost feel it in these rows that were around before industry
It’s like a pleasant mist that spreads over my countenance
It’s painful to realize that there are so many who ignore this fleeting desire
This lifeline that encourages growth like the mid summers morning
Who has been born that cannot hear this angels voice?
Who can feel alive without touching the angels hair?
Deep morning frost that thickens ones footsteps
Fall into the pale morning air that frees my mind
I sit still, very still in fact
Enough so, that the trees become the root of my soul
It is in this little path that the faces take shape
The members of this society begin to hold down sharp edges
Fully aware of the powers they wield
Perhaps the ending will be a memorable one