A Divine Performance

The language of children seems so far out of reach
     from whence I once knew so well.
Those memories are but a distant sunrise now.

I went back to the corner of 7th Street
    to revisit the home of all my childhood dreams.
Nothing has really changed.

I used to go back there once a year to see
    houses painted in every which way while
sanctified Artists shaded their blessings upon the hollow souls.
     They were all stars. All the same;
leaders of the stage lying at the Heart of Main.
     But behind the scenes stands tall the director of great devils.
Nothing has really changed.

Early morning sun tinted by divinity;
    a God-like portrait of clear blue pictured in the clouds
gazing down to witness the entire show.
    It’ll be winter soon and the sea of blue
will fade into a bliss of white and empty hallelujahs.
    But the show must go on!
Nothing will ever change.

I rarely go back to that little town of mine now but
    the though of my childhood still lingers on from time to time.
Nothing has really changed.
    Except…I’m no longer a child.



That changes everything.

Reviews

[John Stussy]

Excellent poem of reflection, it's odd how our surroundings may remain quite the same while we grow older, everything's right where it was and how it was when you last remembered, but... somehow... everything looks different. Because we change, because our perspectives change, the world around us shifts into whole new dimensions and shapes. It's exactly how it was, minus the magic. As we lose our naivete, our eyes adapt to make a new picture before us. Well done Sam. :)