I had a big stage.
Set to the grizzly backdrop of rural Stephen King.
Posts for streets and persecution for people.

But I've seen the suns light bend to the curvature
of the sky's massive hands.
And share the illumination like they were
gifts from no one in particular.
So, bright and light yet pregnant with inspiration
that the ideas refracted off the green grass
and stretched out for the rest of my life
and yours.
The people grew branches
and bloomed blossoms and
smelled of crisp forgiveness.
And you were there, and you and you.