See the world through a million eyes then eight eyes then your eyes my eyes.
Moments of glory interspersed with fragments of tragedy.
Media malfunction has me down the true city stories are barely written down.
They are scarred across the mind of potential.
Potential wasted timelessly to societal lies.
Roses still grow in the concrete.
New forms of diamond ready to shine.
Life ready for a particular nurturing.
Life here is so strong it sometimes survives the baptism of many seasons.
Life is so strong it is stainless steel, the rusts only blow onto but do not corrupt the metal essence of being.
Being capable of standing unwaveringly in the tempest.
Knowing that this trial to will pass.
A few fierce lights standing in between hell and earth helping a few drink a glass of water that will change their lives.
A few fierce life melting old metal, and allowing it to fashion itself.
Days above ground a blessing, days above ground holy.
A tradition of life, water and soil.
It grows us now as the sun's voice sings upon us a season a year.