Drip-Drop
Beads of rain fall from fluorescent crowd. Shadows intermingle, illuminated by flashes from other dimensions.
Solids stand among the crowds, waiting for a turn to disappear.
Rocks lay alone on a sandy beach, stalwarts against the tide. One attempts to roll into the melodic beat of the ocean.
It is stopped. Pinned down by internal design.
A man walks along the street. Influenced by cultural rhythms, springs in his step. Hits the wall, a formidable mass of racist concrete. Returning home, late. Melancholy seeps in from the walls.
The darkness drops again but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony silence were vexed to nightmare by rocking cradle.
Images of past lives enter and disappear, flashing by like pulsating beams of light.
The kernels dance around again, whipping in the vortex of air and heat. All moving as one, until.
One lone being pops into light. Followers follow.
The blasts of light illuminate the darkness.
The man watches, pondering the metaphorical rhythms of the midnight popcorn popping.
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