Edges
cities
flare imaginations. how would you feel in this endless world. all
around you people, they dance and sleep. there is no end to this pockets
of humanity as they replicate themselves infinite. this is a city never
ending. miles and miles of road and rails, it goes on till the end
never to come. pendaflour madness, as some describe the nights. but the
light stops at the edge of the sky, with the heavens glittered with
stars. in some towns they call the Edges, telescopes peer for
intelligence. noisy skies filled with drones, of neighborhood walled
city clans spying on clones of themselves. these cities, with the
occasional meandering rivers exist lawless. there are murders, there are
wars. all reported by clandestine radios and visuals. almost every
street you go, there is a channel of information. some sort of clockwork
entropy machine. there were no flags. there are colors, but at nights
you can't decipher their photons. illusions all the same, as the find
themselves hidden behind shadows of the light horizons. I see them as i
walked the streets and sometimes drove on the forever roads. I see them
looking back. their feet visible at the edge of the light rays. their
eyes glowing white or blue. and those walled cities. they are
magnificent. they have voice and are alive. when you look at them its
like peering through massive mechanical clocks with great precision
gears. yet these are strange cities, I cant find their ends. what end
never found, doesn't fulfill the mind. life gets darker in the Edges. I
did realize mornings never dawn there. I am in no hurry to leave. these
cities are sometimes like home.