late september. bare feet. fifth of jack.
as the sun broke from the wrath
of the unpiercable storm clouds that were blocking
its rays and sunk towards the horizon
the sky turned into a pink so striking
that it was like the world locked
lips and decided that it was
time for the downpour to end forever.

is that what freedom feels like?
when all the barriers that tear us apart
break, does it feel
like late september?
does it feel like walking along the coastline,
the stinging aroma of salt water,
the sound of the waves crashing into
the sand and the
wind whipping stray locks of hair
across your face?
does everything look sublime
and crystal clear?

freedom.
late september.
the most beautiful dream emerging from
a daunting nightmare.

-*z. vega