Overlooking the Urban Eyesore

To anyone who is struggling to find inner happiness. I hope you find what you're looking for.

In the chilly dusk, I sit upon

a cliff overlooking an urban eyesore.

Half of the city sits in warm lights,

where false comfort and safety falls beneath them.

The other half is more clear to see

besides the darkness that veils it.

A province that provides the truth of its nature,

and understands the world it is engulfed in.

A cloud of violent temptation, and the denizens have accepted it.

They pity the light side, as they deny themselves.


Slaves in suits arise from their dwellings,

false smiles to conceal their boredom.

The moon has nearly set, and now these slaves

have given up necessities for their corporation.

The light side who would starve themselves to feed themselves.

Who would replace greed for happiness, and say hypocritically,

“I am happy.”


Who am I to judge this urban atrocity?

I have been in their shoes before;

I have been the man who rose with the moon,

and fell with the sun.

All I took was one gaze from the stars

for me to remove myself from that pain.

Now I find solace from the light and the dark,

and the stars have become my comfort.


Every now and then, I look upon the urban prison

and see if anyone traverses to the cliff I inhabit.

It takes a blue moon to shine onto these slaves

to realize they were free all along.

The fetters were weak to begin with,

and simple steps can split them with ease.


People come by again and again to sit upon my cliff,

and I welcome them.

We tell our stories and share them with the world,


that light will shine upon them,

that they will follow the drinking gourd too,

that the sweet chariots will come for them,

and be free from their own tyranny.


And maybe, we can all sit upon this cliff,

breathing in this world’s natural wonder


Every last being, stripped of their chains

to marvel at the universe’s mystery.

Together, we can be free.

The End

0 comments about this poem Feed