Having everything, yet nothing.
Simply gazing along the streets is a pondering pleasure. Commanding colours bustling with character, decorations intricate in their ensemble, intentions clear and deliberate. Lights arrayed in longing lingerings; gleaming under the sun, glancing under the moon.
The stage is set. But there seems to be no play.
The lights emanate without embrace.
The songs sing without spirit.
The city dreams without hope.
They have everything, yet nothing.
I think about him, whom I first met in the bus; hurling fabricate perceptions and presumptions, sparing him with naught… He, of whom, I will never meet ever again, in this lifetime.
I reel in the truth. I stagger in The Truth.
How many more shall wander, before we ponder.
Forgive us, remind us,
‘Tis not to entertain
…but to proclaim.