Where the clouds drop
and dip into the streets
they find mystery;

city blocks that disappear
as a tree felled against the river
carried away with it’s rage
dragged beneath the surface.

In slow drama
the world becomes a blank face
wholly unforgiving.

From within the current
we can only ask
“is this what always has been,

blinded by a sea of clouds
severed from the world?”

The city
through the fog can only reply
in a hurried whisper secreted away,

“All dreams die in the sun.”