high and behold criss-crossed streets intertwined
and linked by the sounds of rubber
and wood and foam etching their tracks
on cured concrete still hardening after years
of service and use, minutely shifting with
tectonic plates; destined ages ago to sear
the bonds of family and loving ties.
within a beat in the breast we
sons of adam will diverge and rush
to the first sign of safety, forgetting
every duty to kin, beast, and vegetation;
taking light of situations that glow softly
enough and do not burn our eyes
in the vessels navigating through the dark.
from what sounds lead to sweet water
does our intuition arise in the last vestiges
of the navigators abilities, bent low before
his charts seeking a way forward amidst the
rocking and creaking of the weather beaten
hull; with the sole glimmer of a lantern
swinging gently and illuminating a celestial course?