the scene

Another night under the probing beams that weave new stories into the canvas of smoke swirling into the dark high ceiling. The joint changes hands. Goes from strange lips to mine and I add my own lyrics to the song written in smoke. This need to escape into a world without the haunting noises, the futile questions and the inconvenient truth. To con the inebriated mind into believing that these walls don’t exist, this floor doesn’t exist, this animal stench doesn’t exist.

A multitude of lights giving form to the skyline. Twinkling lights from the cars on highways that rise above a river ambling into the ocean. Highways that dissolve into a gaggle of neon lights. Each light whispers a story, a dream, a sigh from the few million lives that make this city. A glass wall mutes the scene.

I never knew this scene would evoke such feelings for this city. This is not home, it wasn’t supposed to be. And yet like a river flowing quietly it awaits below. You can sit up here and just watch. Or you can let your feet slide in and feel the pulse flowing between your toes. Will you dive in? Will you keep your head above the waves?

A roll of the dice. One life in this lifetime aborted. Another life begins without any preface. Whose turn is it next to roll the dice?

The nomad stands at the crossroads again. A bag over his shoulders bursting with memories. Some to be lost, others forgotten.

A new street in this old city. A new smile as I stride into the crowd.

The game is alive as long as you are willing to play.