there is always light in newyork

living. in newyork where Pieces of the Universe all cramsquish Themselves together, some say the Noises of such a City are overwhelming. beep-beeping of horns, swish-chug-chugging of the subway, constant hustling and bustling you can hear. nonstop.nonstop. noise.noise.noise. so I’ve heard with my eyes. for me newyork is motion no noise waking. to the sunrise as it peers through the windows of the 5th floor apartment. no alarm clock. rising. to the sight of my music: the light dancing off prisms of a weathered antique lamp. music - like this is so wonderfulbeautiful but most don’t seem to stop and Notice. walking. to the smell of hotdogs roasting, people smoking. everywhere is Light. glinting off shimmering doorways bouncing through glass window panes blaring from the traffic light seeking through eyes of the Woman playing her mandolin on that street. seeping between the clouds flashing from everywhere. everywhere. as I ride up the fastfastfast elevator, I take my pens out of the pocket in my bag. they are setandready to go. everywhere we go together. following the everywhere.everywhere. that Light goes. sitting. at a desk. ready to capture the Light. glinting. bouncing. blaring. flashing. seeking. people say I’m good. I don’t know. I just know I like the Light in their eyes when they look into my picture. my Piece of the Universe. when the Light in the sky makes Its way around the clock in my head, I know It’s time to leave. the sorrow is softened by the thought that there will be more Light tomorrow. there is always Light in newyork.