At A Crossroads

Between the old church, and the new bars and brothels, lie the sacred and sordid secrets of the streets. From supplications to a higher power by the fragrant altar; to stealthy drug deals at dawn. Between the needle and the vein, the coldest of kisses. The pale blue bride of death hovers over surreal, out of joint scenes, like a famished raven. Between light and dark, the constant human struggle, as the spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak. Between you and I, attempts at communion, as distances grow. Yet, we can't fail. For if we do flowers of Truth will not fully bloom and Love will wither. And we'll still be chained to metal ways. in a restless age, of profound disenchantment.