Anywhere behind the hills
A lazy sun sets
To create the expectations
For the night to come.

My horizon is short sighted:
A kilometer far, at most,
Shortened by the buildings surrounding,
With an eventual glance at the ridges
As a reminder of an outside world,
Limits to civilization,
The extent of our greatness.

Still it is my horizon and I love it.
I love the blocking buildings,
I love the engine noises
Contrasting an inverted clearing
Of trees resisting within the concrete.

I love my sunset,
I love my multilayered sky and its unnamed colors,
I love rooftops I see at a range,
I love the windows blinking,
I love people walking by the street.

That's the thing about horizons:
One either choose a complex view
Or a longing view.
To have both is to have none.