Downward, Then Again

Eying Lyon street the tumescent sun
dilated to the West floats there and
beyond in an endless color promenade,

but seeming a moment for us gravity bound,
when atop the empty breadth of the hill
thinking there’s no place to look, but down
to the city of destiny a thousand feet beneath.

For that illusion, fools of momentum
we are, being what we think exists, as found
in my mind, and within yours, as well,

especially in the context of dreams and ironies,
the growing depth from yesterday’s intent back
behind where we came and the personal breathing
skin of experience of then, here, and to there

when all ends up washed in the valley's drain
that basins to a stream and on through a river
that flows skyward to a splendored horizon.

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