Spiritual

The city grows empty towards the coast 
It leaves the deepest of ambient sounds 
Out to ring in a mindscape's vast expanse 
The immediate alarm fades away 
With the lessening of the traffic the ruckus 
Leaves room for the orchestra backstage 
To come forward with its delivery 
In the form of what was there once 
And how it naturally follows that 
It is hidden to be revealed in the absence 
Of the clamor that clouds the will 
Of the want of man that yet reaches 
Through the silver mirror sold 
Cheaply for its perfect reflection 
 
Listening to the quiet late night train in the distance 
Wait on the brushing caress of the leaves outside the window

Vacation