A wise man once wrote
that courtesy is a silver lining
around the dark clouds of civilization.
And here,
the city makes it’s tracks from the stuff,
lines its streets and fortifies
its soul with it.
Tempered and graceful,
it dips its azure crown
into the inky blackness of night
and rewards us with its newfound knowledge by day.
Yet what best it give us,
beside motherly platitudes
and fatherly love,
is best personified
in the sky streaking heir
of greater promise.
Bestowed.
Benevolent.
Breathtaking.
A messenger of the Gods,
Hermes,
made flesh
Stretching a lining all his own
of blue and arch red
across the tapestry of the skies,
beneath which the little people
no longer feel so
and the smallest of them
know what it is to touch the Gods.
For the Gods have taken it upon their already troubled brows
to touch those
who have,
in essence
breathed them into existence.
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