bayview terraces

i remember a friend and i were at the lookout spot in our area. you know what i’m talking about. every neighborhood has one. it’s the spot that everyone knows but no one tells, where the sun sets behind urban silhouettes. it’s the spot, the sacred spot where dreams are wished upon and futures are seen and pasts are forgotten and remembered all at the same time.

we sat on the hills, our feet snug in half-pipe drains and looked at the skyline. the clouds were avast and simply flowed along and the smog, caused by the constant motion and machinery of this life, suspended itself below. but despite this mixture of pollution and purity, it created the urban paradise we call home.

this was the day he found dance, and this was the day i found rhyme.

no one in sight meant no one could judge, and i sang my heart out while his limbs traced my melodies. my tempo guided his movements, and his flow, my vocal holds. together a little piece of imagination, a little piece of creativity, a little piece of the coming of great minds.

a mixture of motion and flow, we, for a brief moment, created paradise.