We are like New York City.
Where the air reeks of sewage fume.
Where the litter strewn around
also walks aground.
Where a million cursing, slouching, shady types
wander in shade of steel and stone,
searching for hope, they find abuse;
huddled mass and wretched refuse.
Where, shrill and piercing—sirens screech,
Honking, cracking, and clamoring,
a cacophony of commotion
and of dizzying endless motion—
We are also like New York City,
Where liberty’s torch stands raised,
Where skyscrapers thrust high like mighty spears,
towering over each other in symmetrical disarray
each competing for its own place in the sky.
A magnificent and flawed beauty;
Superior to any flawless Creator’s creation.
We are like New York City.
Where the air reeks of sewage fume—
— But damn it! —
What one would give for such perfume!
Such perfect imperfection,
Such chaos and balance and finesse!
That New York City—our beautiful mess.
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StableDiffusion
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