From the East

The night sky bore a deep internal blue,

magnified by nothing except long-standing

street lights that made the impression of

stars, moments before falling to Earth.

The hours did not occur, completely imperceptible

to those who looked up — feeling the weight

of their worldly ambitions faintly staring back

at them with incorporeal passion.

What is it that lures us here?

The snow trembled along to the burning hum

of industry, violently turning itself outward

again and again in the greater distance,

its eyes painted over soft porcelain Earth.

The wind came to a standstill before brushing

past the millions of bodies it loves to call

upon and influence — only here, in the echo of

the west can such poignant strength be felt.