She stood before me, rooted among us and with whispered gestures, moved the mass.

To draw what we have seen
Erase, edit, expand
Handing over our truth
This most perfect thing
For you to accept or discard
To embody and own
Or exorcise from the crowd
Enter pedestrian
Into a family of strangers
Circling through generations
Traversing the grid
Reaching outstretched communities
An idea, to unite an army
Of swelling and crashing waves
Rippling through the hours
Of fading sunshine
Until the intimate standstill
Somewhere around 4am