The street lights beamed as we walked on
showing the city's yellow vapors, and lighting you
Green, then gray.
Green filaments on your face seemed to show
A child's nadir scene.
Some singular moment
when your passive blood
caught mercury on a ruler.

It was the gray at your back lying to know
countless stars so greenly beheld
that aspired, that knew so long before
That you'd pass by the long gray line, Green.

Only a boy who laid on the damp ground
of a sky so dark that it breathed.
Every star in your hand was held.
Each star in your black eyes was lit.

That night after the president of these states
let you down
you saw yourself marred by their perfect goal.
And yet you did not retreat.
But only looked forward
as Hudson ripples descended.
You looked as if you'd just returned
from a death long withheld.

Still troubled with your ease
that was bound so well to know,
knew and yet,
What had been hidden from nearby faces
in order to prove the senses
fared as well that night.

A boy laid down on the damp ground
The sky was dark and it breathed
Every star in his hand he held
Each star in his black eye's was lit

So to the gray, you did walk greenly,
And greatly, grayly they feared you.
For honor always flows back to its source.
What created this dreaming will call to quarter
the long moon's shadows.
Eyes will ever upward shaft for light.
If depth of cloud, taps then, swiftly east over the river.