Find Me At Sunrise
Thirty one thousand one hundred and six Before dawn and after dusk, zero. An oasis on a clock that never stops. Four aluminium cannisters And a square viewfinder Zero becomes one with twelve frames of opportunity.
Before the alarms ring out and reality sets in these streets paint like a ghost town. Before we cling to the skin of this planet with every natural instinct There’s a vacuum of humanity.
Death is the defining thought of life A darkness snuffing out the light yet here the sun is shining. Memories are etched into stone held, Beneath a blanket of petal littered grass Through a lens the dead are rising.
Rain falls to flood where life grows steady Drowning footprints with reflections where past and present collide. By the water there is no one to witness the new supplant the old Like modern growth across rusted metal.
Just as sure as the sun will rise The sun will also set The streets will fill for hours and hours before they are emptied again, And in this moment of almost perfection I will capture the imperfect Because twelve could simply turn to none And I may be drawing my last breath.
Amy Bloomfield