amber beams

The sun is set, and so the Amber beams silently burst from their lighthouse confinements to show us the way. I walk down the center of this once busy boulevard, the floor rises to meet my steps lifting me higher than the few around me. The heather gray structures which they collectively call a city, tower to create a wind tunnel. I hear it start its cycle far behind me. Like a spirit of death it comes from all angles, rolling off the brick and glass towards me, it joins and hits me pushing the curls into my eyes. The puddles are also lifted as I walk; they stream like rivers down the soft tar line patches to form once again in the gutter. A Celica with dim ground effects slowly passes me, under the black sky it runs through the lights just before they shout stop. I quicken my pace as I approach a steep drop-off in elevation. Below I see the neighboring town, near me the station, and the multitude of lost souls coming and going in organized disarray. With their black pea coats on and collars up they hustle. Returning from their true love, their reason for living, from their 15th story office rooms with an overlooking window, not just anyone can live life as richly as they. Obviously it’s a disenchantment with their work that makes it unfulfilling. Like a stale five year old marriage it just needs to be changed completely to become anew and burn bright once again. That thirst within them screams to be quenched yet never fully has, why should it now, can anyone be filled? A satisfying complete life is a temporary stage, a life which hasn’t ended yet. On their deathbeds, like their forefathers they will recollect and find meaning for their life in their families, occupation, and character. But suppressed they understand that they are not yet filled. During that last glimpse of this earth their chest lowers. And for that last split second of life they’re filled with a panicked fear, questioning everything they had just felt so sure about…I have the answer, a water that will quench this desire. But I won’t tell you, disbelieving, you wouldn’t want to hear it