From here, I can see the world.
The ocean blues of the sky and the sky blues of the ocean,
The milky dawn and the purple twilight acting as bookends
For the expanse of time in which the sun’s rays shine.
And then the stars—oh how the stars blink into existence
As the moon rises gracefully into its own perch—
But not as splendid a perch as mine.
From here, I watch the people.
They act as if they are alone, not watched by even God,
And it is endearing to see them—
To see them dancing when the rain drizzles,
The light of the street lamps making halos around them.
To hear them singing under their breath, whistling, humming,
Throwing their head back as they laugh.
I watch them as they fall in love and fall in despair
And hug their arms around them when it’s cold,
And in the heat, their faces turn shiny—they feel it all.
I feel it all.
But they don’t even think to look up.
I watch them in silence, always watching
From this magnificent, isolated perch I found.