My every step is engulfed by the sound around me;
I hear nothing but white noise, silent but not quite empty.
The sky suddenly shatters and rains shards of glass,
and the pit and patter of every drop drums into the ears.
The cold streets witness the dragging of heavy footsteps.
Hearts grow heavy in search of home,
for any signal of change is nearly a fantasy.
I watch cities come to life and souls slowly fade
as the blaring lights become smeared paint.
My lungs inflate with an onrush of anxiety,
struck with fear and the horror of loneliness.
The summoning of truth, a minute of quiet
emerges in a loud, shouting world.
The generation grows older,
as waves of people come and go.
This is a time to distinguish film from reality.
Puddles reflect faces of the earth,
altered and molded as time slips by.
The road bleak, a destroyed picture
twisting into a hopeless maze.
What direction to take?
What to let go of, what to redeem?
Suddenly, the radio crackles, and my eyes flutter open,
for the rain has finally stopped.
Now I chose to follow the sun for a better tomorrow.
By ESTHER KANG