Did I step out there? Into that vacant space.
Track marks in the clay. First earth disturbed.
Racing, pacing; walking restless across unknown ground.
With my torch hanging loose by pressed jeans.
Did the fog part for me? In the shadows of the Spanish moss
And was I able to look clearly through to the bottom?
When I saw what it could be and what it is.
The soul underneath. Lucid eyes; open palms.
The impression made; turning ’round.
Once again enveloped. The flame extinguished.
The city lights only a dim flicker, and the sounds,
once overbearing, now only felt through the starch in my clothes.
Looking forward there’s moonlight, and I say to myself,
“I did not come to forget.”
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