Submitted by Lana Bella
after Jonny Lang’s Wander This World
I arrived on the noise of familiars,
like diving into water, returning home.
Slim-shouldered and late blooming,
I lurched forth on more than mere
instinct to lean back to the extrinsic,
morphine-kind. To hold me here,
I would lose nights into the avenues,
passing through hands with downward
stride, making ghosts by their right-
ful names. Only, I was the dying
of the afternoons, jeweled back-lit by
the city headlights, discarded to
my quaint lurch more ancient than love,
an egress of vagabond in indigo pink.
Painting: Rene Magritte – Empire of Light
Vita Brevis Press. 
Oh the mystery of traveling in the nightlight, worded brilliantly.
Reblogged this on The Biblioanthropologist.
Stunningly otherworldly and such a perfect close. Well done.