ONE STEP PAST

There was a lifting

of dreams, a rising of hope.

An overreach through

memories.

A rhythm of power covering

the wounds of neon’s from

towns without names and

unfamiliar faces.

He was a velvet hitchhiker

searching for a yawn of

Relief.

Secret angels touch the soul

of his shoulder guiding him away

from creative misfortune.

Trumpets of winds whisper.

He sees the good in uncertain

eyes.

He stands to the right of his

shadow.

 

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