And the buildings are cut out against the sky –
A perfect space to call us to the everyday.
The full earpodded rush of jangled music
Opposes the mundane wish to get into bed.
Soberly I just want to erupt and dance in the streets
Make myself a mockery as the song assumes,
To sling my arms to the air and swirl delight.
These night excitements need to be cherished
Too often we are made poorer, necessary amnesia;
Batted aside by the ordinary, the rational and sensible.
We have no big G or little g Gods, no diety
To hallelujah anymore and keep us in line.
Any awe we feel is formula, weighed, explained.
The instant that fills the space – that now rush
Comes before we can think, it sings us into
An other, both utterly us and utterly new.