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Edges

cities flare imaginations. how would you feel in this endless world. all around you people, they dance and sleep. there is no end to this pockets of humanity as they replicate themselves infinite. this is a city never ending. miles and miles of road and rails, it goes on till the end never to come. pendaflour madness, as some describe the nights. but the light stops at the edge of the sky, with the heavens glittered with stars. in some towns they call the Edges, telescopes peer for intelligence. noisy skies filled with drones, of neighborhood walled city clans spying on clones of themselves. these cities, with the occasional meandering rivers exist lawless. there are murders, there are wars. all reported by clandestine radios and visuals. almost every street you go, there is a channel of information. some sort of clockwork entropy machine. there were no flags. there are colors, but at nights you can't decipher their photons. illusions all the same, as the find themselves hidden behind shadows of the light horizons. I see them as i walked the streets and sometimes drove on the forever roads. I see them looking back. their feet visible at the edge of the light rays. their eyes glowing white or blue. and those walled cities. they are magnificent. they have voice and are alive. when you look at them its like peering through massive mechanical clocks with great precision gears. yet these are strange cities, I cant find their ends. what end never found, doesn't fulfill the mind. life gets darker in the Edges. I did realize mornings never dawn there. I am in no hurry to leave. these cities are sometimes like home.