The hour is late; the door is open.
The streets are silent; the moon is crescent.
The sounds of footsteps peter softly
in the night’s dark vacuum.
The lost souls of daytime meet beneath
the blackened sky of a moonlit stream.
Under the cloud of smog,
a lone wanderer walks with purpose.
She walks through the tall suburban buildings
of neon streets.
An escape to freedom; an escape from life.
As the sands of time fall,
she knows that freedom is ephemeral.
Their lives are not their own,
and they are bound to a world not this.
But, for now, in these moments, they come together.
They share a forbidden passion,
where there are no winners.
They share life, lust, and liberty; but nothing more.
This world of theirs is fleeting.
Its foundation is skin deep, and it cannot last.
Even with the knowledge of a world in flames,
they continue to meet.
Convinced of turning fire into water.
There are no Romantic heroes.
© Stuart Kilmartin
Excerpt from the book Naughty Nuts & Bolts
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