Possession
A new moon hangs low on the horizon,
A scythe of silver trying to keep the dawn at bay,
Imploring the sun that waits just over the edge of the inky black.

And then, the world turns.
The sleepy road awakens to your footsteps.
My city shakes the sleep from its eyes and one by one, the stars wink out.
The sun rolls in.

Dawn unveils the city in the womb of a grey fog.
Slowly, features begin to appear, as if the morning has dreamed them up this very moment.
Here, a building is conjured up, there a tree, and far, far away in the distance, great blue mountains.
Even further away, the sea heaves, taking in its first breath of the day.

The sky blushes a hesitant red,
Like those of cheeks warmed by the salt that has spilled over them,
Like the fire that burns within and without, tirelessly.

This city has been my familiar,
It has followed me wherever I have gone,
And soot and cinder and steel and concrete have welcomed me with their cold arms every time I have returned.

My city knows me just as well as I know it,
It has slipped into the empty spaces birthed by your absence,
And swirled into the fullness of the hours that are brought to life by you.

But today, as the dawn breaks with your stride,
My city seems content to walk by your side, letting itself be swept into your journey.
This resisting, unyielding city of mine, lays its secrets at your feet.

And you,
You do not unfold them,
You do not coaxe them into your palms,

You do what you do best,
You let them be absorbed within you, and then,
You let them unfurl.