pepsibubble Poetry (1)

This city seemed sweeter, on her passing through.
Brief it was that is fact, but what we shared was not fact nor mankind,
it was an unspoken time, not for lack of tongue but rather lyric.
Like creation was born in our palms,
and the creator swooned at our image.

This city holds much mystery still, and had before.
But I was not aware then of this platform, this illumination.
And now this glorious place seems doomed to shadow,
like a talent hidden by unremarkable beauty.

This city had not expected her and nor had I.
I brought her here and for that I remorse on its behalf.
I was unprepared for perfection, for want of that very lyric,
and now this city and all its offerings will suffer.

This city will not banish me, and I will not banish it.
Its hardened walls will protect me until they fall,
Its eldest resident will reassure me.
And I will meet reminders every day

I am mankind and cannot sway sublime circumstance.
I cannot return and rewrite it,
I can only accept its thorny whip
and hope for its fruit and kiss when I awake

This city will not burn
It will in time shine through shadow
and I will thank circumstance for my brief view of perfection.
My brief view of Grace.