The eye

Quietly, I walk through red lights and stop signs unseen,
against cityscapes juxtaposed with flowering cherry
blossoms, slipping like a snake made of smoke through
throngs. Every single night; in the pouring rain and beating
heat, all to maintain sanity and quell depression. The shower
principal only in motion. My mind clear and ruminating on
how little I actually need. Some food, some water, a roof and
little else. The nights are still and clear as crystal and I
wonder how loud I’d have to yell for God to hear me. Hear me
now You great, thundering voice of voices. Listen to my
trembling one.
I have seen the city of peace with hope in the
center, surrounded by sentinels and watchmen, but I have
slid past these guards unnoticed and rested in the eye of
the garden.

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