The Kingdom Come

Masks dissolve into a gutter stream, grey to grit dust blows and whistles. Gone is their house gone in the street goodbye to this comfort sentimental retreat.

The lights blink into night, and new mercy ignites a wolf howls and heat simmers out as men coddle their own and air escapes their throats.

The silent stand tall, the mighty roll over on broken ankles and my captain on a snowy horse strides and overcomes the masked, the vigilant crumble. Wishes 

flicker on a birthday cake that melts from words from his mouth. 

The proud corral and fade into the backdrop a noose that binds wildly and those humble kneel down in a brilliant dance, hearts explode literal and glorious like confetti onto the dawn. Life trickles and flows a steady passage as the grit washes east; restless grins sound and wide.

The long march home is in his eyes.