I walk in the humid hours
of narrow streets, of gentle evening.
I am enveloped in darkness and
my shadow disappeared.
Tiny, artificial lights are inferior.
Some ancient houses left remnants
of bricked walls and the lake cannot
explain the reason.
I look for a crowd of mine but everyone
went into slumbering, busying peacefully
and engulfed in mortal dreams, and where
I stand is the country that is safe.
2017
chester maynes 