Democratic death
The scales of justice lean right
A tattered flag hangs

Waffle House is America.
Not the version we sell on post cards,
the real one.
the raw one.

The one that limps,
Laughs,
Fights,
Forgives,
And keeps the grill hot.
Through it all.

It is poetry.
It is art.
It's everything this country is meant to be:
Messy, soulful, and built for anyone that enters the door.

Because inside that yellow box by the interstate
there are no velvet ropes,
no VIP section,
and nobody is any better than anyone else.

In one booth could be a millionaire is a white pressed button-down
Who's on the phone with his divorce attorney.

In the next, a man counting his ruffled-up dollar bills
So he could buy a cup of coffee and a single scrambled egg.

In another, two teenagers on their first date
Sharing a laugh over a stack of chocolate-chip waffles.

And in the back corner is a woman crying softly into her hash browns
As her entire world splits apart.

The cook's name might be Rico, or Janice, but they've worked here for 16 years, survived 14 fistfights, and fought through 3 hurricanes.

Your server refers to you as honey
While she smokes a Newport in the alley out back

And there's a jukebox in the corner
That'll only plays songs that make you feel like the love of your life just left.

The A/C never works,
the coffee tastes like burnt ambition,
and the menus have the same stains as they did in your childhood.

And somehow in the midst of all that dysfunction,
there's peace.

I've been to Waffle House more times than I can count.
After good nights,
After bad ones,
After breakups,
After funerals,
At 3 P.M. with my friends,
And at 3 A.M. with my demons.

There have been times I haven't even known what I believed in.
But I always believed in Waffle House.
I believed in those yellow tiles.
The cracked seats.
That ancient jukebox.
And that first bite of my hotcake that tastes like stability and chaos.

Waffle House is the last American sanctuary.
It's the great equalizer for all.
It doesn't care who you voted for,
How much you make,
Where you're from,
Or how broken you feel that night.

It just asks, "How do you want your eggs."
And that right there, is gospel anyone can get behind.

Because when everything feels like it's unraveling,
Waffle House stays open.
When your relationships fall apart,
Waffle House stays open.
When you fall apart,
Waffle House stays open.

It's not just a restaurant.
It's a time machine,
A therapy session,
A last resort,
A first date,
A second chance,

And a middle-of-the-night reminder
That you've made it this far,
And maybe. Just maybe. You will make it a little further.

When the streets are empty and you're phone's gone quiet.
When every friend and family member is asleep.
When every bar is closed.
When that person that you desperately want to respond doesn't,

Waffle House does.

It won't need a reservation, and it won't ask questions.
It just pours the coffee, drops the plate,
And lets you exist exactly as you are.

The final light when everything else has gone out.
The flicker in the fog.
The open door at the end of the night.
The last neon moon of America,
That I pray never sets.

I was once a lonesome pioneer,
A past life ways away,
I spurred my horse in desert sands.
A familiar stranger,
Is all I ever was,
Anyone could tell you, nobody remembered me,
I was in by sunset and left by it's rise,
A way-fairing American,
Inspired by new lands,
After all, the west is best.

There's something bout this place,
America, rolling plains and jagged peaks,
Skies of stars drifting in my gaze.

Europe has history,
But we have soul,
No where's better for me,
Than America's portion of the seas.

Whether or not we're falling apart,
This landscape is beyond mere art,
After all, we all came here to make dreams,
Not for the perfect life,
But one we'll remember when it ends.

Canyons always evoke a sense of picturesque excitement of nature,
Slot canyons elevate the thrill several notches by their sheer stature,
They are found in many parts of the world in areas with low rainfall,
Often described as long narrow drainageways, with sheer rock walls

Rock walls are typically eroded into sandstone or other sedimentary rock,
Depth-to-width ratios increasing even ten-fold should come as no shock,
Slot canyons can be subject to flash flooding - a typical characteristic,
Unique soil compositions, differing from the drier uplands, are realistic

Nature's wondrous creation can be seen in the Upper Antelope Canyon,
Water and time have eroded the rock, turning it into a slot canyon,
The transition to formation of smooth flowing rock is incredible,
As if nature willed the breathtaking interior to be truly impeccable

Arizona's Antelope Canyon was formed over time by erosion of red sandstone,
Centuries of flash flooding and intermittent wind resulted in this keystone,
The narrow passageway leads several hundred feet away from the opening,
The gorgeous photogenic sloping of the rocks is a sight worth mentioning

In local lingo, the Navajos call this "the place where water runs through rocks",
Come monsoon, rainwater gushes into the narrow passageways, round the clock,
The passageways are eroded over time making the corridors get more deeper,
Hard rock edges smoothen with characteristic flowing shapes, that look sleeker

A stark feature is the shafts of sunlight radiating down from the canyon top,
The effect is most pronounced during summer, with action almost nonstop,
The light shafts illuminate pink, orange and gold patterns on the canyon walls,
Winter colors are a tad more muted, but still a sight for visitors to enthrall

It's a common sight to see visitors jostling for vantage points for photoshoots,
Tourist guides revel in clicking group photos with free advertising to boot,
Every turn and steps ahead provide an unique exhilarating experience,
Exclamations of awe and wonder that fill the air, befit the ambience

As the 4x4 AWD vehicle drives you back at the end of the slot canyon visit,
Rapturous memorable visuals of the stunning canyon interior are hard to desist,
Witnessing one of nature's marvels leaves an euphoric feeling of being perennial,
Poetic encomium would do little justice to the canyon's beauty, that feels surreal