look through, past, beyond–
imagine a path, a road, a map,
a beckoning, a call, a summons–
blue violet skies await

abandoned hallways of the past
leading to corridors of disappointments,
resentments and lost dreams–
save an optimistic seat for
someday and tomorrow

Moments lost to time and memory
float on colored lights in the distance.

What is to distinguish us from the industrial ants who build
tunnels and drag their food below the surface for safekeeping?
Why do we think ourselves superior to the clever digger wasp
who makes his home deep into the earth?
I think these obvious thoughts as I approach the subway.