Downwind crossroads are reckless sacrifices.
The opening that appears, like a window
half open that encourages. The day was without
fences or caution. The curtains on your stage are pulled
back, preparing for an entrance.
Corridors of thoughts testify the betrayal where
the eye opening tracks remain quiet now but
stir the air, preparing for change.
Midnight is calling, where late fires scatter the
ashes under starry skies as promises rise to
the surface on a highway where angels sing.
Roger Singer 