I release balloons into the sky and stare until
the atmosphere has swallowed them and
they are drowning in the sun.
Apple blossoms in the eyes of passer-bys
make them forget about God,
make them follow the balloons ascend
like dancers, like ghosts, like shivering flowers,
until we all lose sight together and
we are left, blinking out sunspots.
We have all forgotten God; in His place
we have cracked concrete of city streets that
lead to intersections and streetlights and stop signs
and rusted cars. We have apple blossoms
in our eyes to blind us. We have a sun
like a bruised orange in a still life.
And we have nothing left to hold on to,
because the atmosphere has claimed all of our balloons.
Was that moment worth it, I wonder,
was inhaling sunspots and flirting with apple blossoms
and watching balloons slip and shiver away from us,
worth everything it cost,
now that we have forgotten even the God of Elijah?
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