Urban savage/wild gent

Each city laced by rough roads, polished paths,
and entwining a legion of stories.
Enough to exceed expectation.
Breaths rising, falling and coalescing
in fumes of carbon dioxide,
expressed thought/persona and divine rapture.

Oversouls embrace both town and mountain.
Gritty granular constellations
of dirt, pavement and rock formations.
The dragon’s wings curve 

through valley and dale, 

stream and striation.
Casting shadows from 

illuminations of the light 

that remains forever.

Urban savages snake up circuitous paths,
whether metropolitan or terranic.
The vistas from each and every worthy of ascent,
bring new and different aspects to vision.

And the depths are still mostly unknown,
like a watery night-sky,
filled with shooting stars 

of aqua-luminescence.

And the particulars are everywhere,
and you love what you love,
and that love transfigures,
making it sacred in your eyes.

Evade the stamp, subvert the mark,
unless it is your own,
and then collapse in communal hilarity,
which we all somewhat forget,
until it comes around again 

and again 

and 

again.