Open. I lie on my bare back with ceramic’s cold. Taking in that change as my warmth fight against the freezing floor. I concentrate by closing my eyes. I hear travelers’ trudging through their consistent days, lacking pause, missing selves.
My back arching giving into this sense of renewal. Lying on steps of millions; left behind are their varied purpose and reason. My pride angers away through their chaotic life, only envisioning a glorified tomorrow.
I give it one last breathe; putting aside by defeatist perceptions of racing humans. My battles with this cold floor reaches into my empty vessel of a heart that I know.
Amidst the pulse of steps, I felt a short, almost a quiet overlap of souls. Enlightened with the exchange,finally, patience seeps in. Let this day pass, tomorrow will be alright.
POP Project Status: Half way through my second book with 3 weeks left. screwed.