life in the dome
A while back a dear friend of mine came in from out of town and we did psychedelics in the courtyard of my complex.
We laid in the grass next to the water feature and looked at all the apartment lights that began pouring watchful over us. In this beautiful little park walled away from the outside we were overcome by a similar feeling. Like we rested under a great dome in the stars.
I looked up at the trees that felt so alive like vascular guardians, holding up the skies of my home, of my peace.
I look at those same trees from my smoking chair every night. I pray to the little crucifix of a power line that peers out from between their branches. Listen to the water roll from the pond. There's an unmatched sense of safety here.
For the first time in years I come home to the quiet of a place that feels exactly where I ought to be. A breathing little community that sleeps under the same quiet sphere.
A sense of independence fills me every time. I think every day about success, about how I really only ever dreamed of enough to get by. Looking out on the lamps in my courtyard I feel apart of the perfect place to do so, I could never really ask for more.
For all that I've lost and gained. I have boundless gratitude for my new life in the dome.