Melancholia

All Places

i like to think that all places,

              all cities

     have their own

                          beauty.

but i can't seem

                      to find that

        here.

                    but all cities,

  from tokyo

            to havana,

                         or

            vancouver

to sydney,

                        have this one

           perfect

   

                                moment,

   when the sun

                   has almost disappeared

     below the horizon

                               and the sky

                    lights up

 as if the whole world

                               was set ablaze.

   and it doesn't matter

                           if you're in

           calgary

                   or newcastle,

   santa clara

                  or san francisco;

        for that briefest of moments

                         the whole world can look the same.

        it is then,

                        for me,

        that a

                      soulless prairie city,

        or a stoic seawall embankment,

                                               or drunken foreign streets,

           or an enchanting forest canopy,

                                         

                                                     can all feel like home.