Long Island Goes Trans-Siberian

It was a cold, dark night. The roads were painted black, and my destination seemed out of reach. Hope lied in the headlights, but fear was the cold hand lying against the steering wheel. I still drove on, and there it was, a coliseum, a landmark of history. And the guards merely pointed to where I had to park, and I followed their gesture, picking a spot not too far away. As I stepped outside, the cold winds of this world bore their weight down upon me, but their attack could not break nor shake me. The angels were calling me home.

A world divided melted into a sea pouring through glass doors. Voices mingled, and smiles shined. Hunger roared in the bellies of those that savored the sweet aroma of food, and lips licked at the flavored drinks that quenched their thirst. Hearts called to the seats waiting for them, and anticipation mingled with excitement. A world divided was now united under the brilliant stars tonight, and a hush fell over the crowd. And the angels came to life.

Beauty soared across the guitars. Passion pounded to the beat. Rainbows of color lit up the stage. Hands raised into the air. Life ignited in the eyes of those now captivated by story and by music. Heart and soul breathed against the soft bows that carried them across this sea, pulling them in further and lifting them off their feet. Dreams were alive tonight, and humanity breathed, remembered and no more denied or buried beneath the weight of this world. And the angels sang on, lighting candles in the corridors of who we all really are deep inside.

Green snow drifted down, embers of legend warming those below. Violins soared, and guitars screamed. Bodies moved to the beat, playing to imagination, and heads bobbed in sync. Legs kicked into the air. Feet waltzed and pranced. The angels marched, rising high in the air, and they played for us. And we were theirs.

As time melted away, those, whose cups were now filled with dreams departed from their seats. Life shined in their eyes, and smiles stretched across their cheeks. The young at heart and the heart of the young remained behind, watching them go, but their cups were full, begging to be overfilled with joy. And the angels sang on, carrying them across this night, and time was no more a thought but a whisper ticking across smooth surfaces of glass. And the stage exploded, and we ignited, wanting the show to go on.

But like all good things, they must come to an end. For over three hours, we were gone, drinking in the sweetest of dreams, and now our hearts and soul were lighter, feathers drifting in the air. Our feet skipped down stone steps as if we were children that played across eternity, remembering a youth lost so long ago. Hands skirted past those that walked beside us, and eyes warmed at each glance. We were no more divided but one. Humanity strummed to the march of our feet, and life were the beacons shining outside, lighting the way home. And hope took the wheel, guiding us to where we needed to go, and there was no more weight, no more burden to this world. Instead, a sea of stars stretched overhead, calling to our dreams, and we dreamed. And as we were carried home, a little boy sat back, lost in thought and strumming the chords to his new guitar, a gift from the angels to never give up but to keep on playing. Keep on believing, and never give up.

So, I end this piece with a song that lifted my heart and gave light to my soul, a piece called Believe:

"I am the way
I am the light
I am the dark inside the night
I hear your hopes
I feel your dreams
And in the dark
I hear your screams
Don't turn away
Just take my hand
And when you make your final stand
I'll be right there
I'll never leave
All I ask of you
Believe"