As the embers of sunset
Cool, dim slowly at the horizon,
New sparks are born into the dark world.


Brake lights march,
Blood-red and determined,
Rank-and-file along their familiar trails.
Then, one by one, courageous
Deserters peel off,
Absconding to tree-hidden villages
Unlit in clandestine comfort.
And when too few remain
To intimidate the menacing
Wild, leaping across and growing
Under their ever-thinning paths,
They break into sprint,
Fleeing carelessly along the
Roads-turned-rivers
That cascade the cars to their fast-approaching ends.


Windows glow with
Golden incandescence
Rich with sonder.
These forges of memory
Shine out with hot light—
But the warmth dies at the doorstep
And the light pools and seeps
Into the rain-wet lawn.
And the foolish industry inside,
So smokeless and quiet
Ships nothing, sells nothing,
Greedily holds the fruit of its labor,
It’s lights always secret
In the polite shroud of tact.


Shops and streetlights shout
White, demanding
Attention to the storefronts or
The road ahead.
Intent on their goal, they
Pierce the autumn mist and
Shatter the tint of car windows
Shrilly and coldly reminding us
We are not acting a dream.
Their cast is revealing and bright,
Glaring and sharp,
Until their purpose is served, and they
Cut out into darkness.


Thinking of these lights,
Beaming ceaselessly only
To be briefly caught by an eye
Before they’re absorbed into the earth
Or float aimlessly to space,
I’m saddened by their trivial deaths.


But they never die.
Every photon, every discrete speck
Of light flits wildly
Along the earth for
An infinitesimal, joyful moment;
And then, at breakneck speed,
Diffuse, Dilute, Uniform, United,
They rush endlessly
Into the arms-wide
And awaiting universe.