The street is lined with silent watchers
A spectacle of starlight above and below the horizon
Where their minds live, where their souls dream
Far from the dirt-track street filled with ruts—
The only traces of those who have passed through
On their way along the road to the next town.
What safe passage must cost, we can only guess
Or wait for a day when the river runs backward.
Winds of a storm carry word of a dream world
Bathed in light from a different sky
Where none stay to keep watch over the road
All are simply passing through.
There starlight is lost, and the road is smooth—
No trace of the passing
No thought of what they left behind
Once free, the watchers fade to a memory
The path grows wide, the way forward easy
Bright light is a reminder of a soul flayed open
And the road through darkness is a place to heal.

Photo by Javon Swaby from Pexels