Dust In the Wind
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Chapter 1:- Drabble Poem
If I knew why, if only I knew why; out here on the streets, with their towering buildings and wiseass thugs, the city can be a mean place. Busy people, not caring about where the others are going, chatting on their cell phones, juggling shopping bags, purses, and portfolios, while corralling children away from the more bizarre residents of the area.
Nighttime is the worst, crooked crack dealers lurk through the allies like predators in a concrete jungle; sultry concubines lure any and many of the unruly white-collar businessmen heading home, unaware, from an overworked shift. They never knew what hit them. Hook. Line. Sinker. All naïve but never innocent.
Nightlife can be interesting wherever you go, but larger cities top it off; clubs and bars attract the passerby with bright colors and pulsing music only to give you a slur in your speech and a lurch in your step, (and on occasion your stomach); quite the tradeoff.
Of course the night has never been a safe place, criminals run rampant during the night and well on into early morning, stealing, vandalizing, and otherwise running amuck. An ambulance or police car speeding down the roads screaming for right of way is not a rare sight to see.
If anyone ever had the chance to take a closer look at the city though, they’d never see the true beauty of it. The sunsets, all along the western skyline, set off an orange glow that radiates the city, and the midday sun shining off the windows uptown can take your breath away, and your eyesight.
Yes, the city has an amazing beauty about it, even with its delinquents. It’s a painful but present beauty, like a thorny red rose, lovely to look at but agonizing to touch unless handled carefully.
Sadly, like a rose, the city will eventually wilt, losing all of its lustrous beauty; buildings will crumble and collapse, leaving great scars on the planet’s surface. Nothing in this world is made to last, nature would fall out of balance; and the city is no exception. The city has grown, bloomed and now wilts; the only thing left is to die.
From whence we came from the ashes, so shall we return, nothing but dust in the wind.
If I knew why, if only I knew why; out here on the streets, with their towering buildings and wiseass thugs, the city can be a mean place. Busy people, not caring about where the others are going, chatting on their cell phones, juggling shopping bags, purses, and portfolios, while corralling children away from the more bizarre residents of the area.
Nighttime is the worst, crooked crack dealers lurk through the allies like predators in a concrete jungle; sultry concubines lure any and many of the unruly white-collar businessmen heading home, unaware, from an overworked shift. They never knew what hit them. Hook. Line. Sinker. All naïve but never innocent.
Nightlife can be interesting wherever you go, but larger cities top it off; clubs and bars attract the passerby with bright colors and pulsing music only to give you a slur in your speech and a lurch in your step, (and on occasion your stomach); quite the tradeoff.
Of course the night has never been a safe place, criminals run rampant during the night and well on into early morning, stealing, vandalizing, and otherwise running amuck. An ambulance or police car speeding down the roads screaming for right of way is not a rare sight to see.
If anyone ever had the chance to take a closer look at the city though, they’d never see the true beauty of it. The sunsets, all along the western skyline, set off an orange glow that radiates the city, and the midday sun shining off the windows uptown can take your breath away, and your eyesight.
Yes, the city has an amazing beauty about it, even with its delinquents. It’s a painful but present beauty, like a thorny red rose, lovely to look at but agonizing to touch unless handled carefully.
Sadly, like a rose, the city will eventually wilt, losing all of its lustrous beauty; buildings will crumble and collapse, leaving great scars on the planet’s surface. Nothing in this world is made to last, nature would fall out of balance; and the city is no exception. The city has grown, bloomed and now wilts; the only thing left is to die.
From whence we came from the ashes, so shall we return, nothing but dust in the wind.
