The New York Within

How easy it is to see
a city like New York;
to watch the sea of people
washing down the streets
among stoic buildings and
elegant skyscrapers;
to breathe the smog
hugging close like a veil.

Harder still to know
the hue of masses.
It's a city of its people,
for its people, with its people.
The city of walking sleepers,
dead faces and blank stares.
The city of meetings,
hardships and lfowers.
The city of music:
shouting, lyrical, and art.
The city of stereotypes,
non-conformists and tourists;
and still they are all
the same.

Hellishly difficult to know
the truth of the city
where eyes belie the strength
and hearts cry for more;
where souls secretly yearn
to escape and remain;
where a genuine smile
breaks tedium in the ocean;
where free hugs melt
the sorrow and fear of life;
where culture is regarded
and forgotten from step to step;
where lunch dates solidify
friendships needed to survive.

However, this isn't just within
a city that never sleeps.
It's easy to see this life
within us all.
It's harder to understand the
delicate movements of living.
It's magic to know
how we live in survival.