For a Single Sight

The night is uncensored

with flashes of light that predominate,

and as yellow and blue

stand definitively

side to side

untainted or altered

a background of buildings

reincarnate the past

marking the living colours.

. . .

The moon is all that hangs there

still

you hear no sound for splits of seconds

that is fascination what you see

is only shades and shadows of colours

and as the strongest and heaviest

scents prevail from the rest

what remains is a breeze and a whisper,

a whisper of foot steps and cars passing by.

. . .

The road is unsteady and filled with tricks

but knowing these roads in the morning

so familiar, yet so strange at night

having even the inanimate things that move

seem alive with a spirit, a soul.

. . .

The stranger of this night

can only stand by a single thought

that who once lived

will once die

and what comes to count

is the play between the lights.