Silent, at first,
Mists in the morning sky.

The world wakes,
Fresh and cold and clean.

The sun hides
From the colorless in-between.

A deep exhale,
Roaring now through the empty streets.

Empty? Not empty –
A river –
A splash, a shout,
A blur of broken images.

A dull rumble,
The prolonged sigh.

Joy and grief,
Death and birth,
The tumultuous darkness.

The sun wins once more –
clean carnage left behind:

A million little diamonds
Shining neath the sky.

Flowers bloom.


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