Thirty minutes is all it takes
for city lights to fade into stars.
for concrete to dissolve into forest,
for lines to curve,
for branches to grow arms,
for death to come back to life,
for silence to engulf sound.
A steady decrescendo
as the anxious purr of civilization
sighs back into a sentient stillness.
those thirty minutes feel too long.
Time is warped by architecture.
Distance is blinded by noise.
When the horizon is overshadowed
by the light of an empire,
it’s easy to think
that the only place to look is up—
that segmented sky
and man-made wilderness