Hold Our Hopes Accountable

I can see only one street lamp from my window. It stands above Santa Fe drive. From where I sit, it is beyond the roof of the house across the alley, the abandoned and half-burnt house down from my window. I sit on my bed in my second floor studio and see that my bedroom window is still open. It rained well today. The afternoon brought a strong Colorado summer rain. But it isn’t yet summer so the cold stuck around and made most people around the city wear clothes they are trying to forget. The lights from the street lamp vibrate as I bob my headphoned ears and shift the rain drops that are still stuck to my window with my head moving side to side. It is framed by the pale black blue of a gone sun in late May. The sky is a consistent smoky blue I have never noticed. The color is calm and ascending. On one side of the street lamp, the frame of the night sky is stopped by the green of a tree next to the lamp. It’s green spring leaves are elevated to a brightness from the proximity of this lone street light. The green leaves are the only color I see through my window in a picture of black water, clear water, black sky and clear sky, smoked blue and glistening white and glassy black. I sit on my bed and try to write the words that I need, that I think that we all need. I wish to extend my heart and my reach towards the sky and make an attempt at the summit of my heart and thus the summit of this world in which I live. I will accelerate my push towards the limits of the sky above and push the threshold of the boundaries of the earth we stand upon. I will grasp for that which I know I am capable. I will write the words of my generation. I will write my testament to the eyes above and to the eyes within that recall everything. I will write my words for the present moment and for the next moment, seeking to be better as a man, pushing us to be better as a society, and I will hold accountable our hopes to make our light shine brighter as this flickering event in a random universe that we are.