THe bare streets hold the peoplem and pull them along, and keep them tied down to reality, where they know they cannot escape, so they look at their feet, and dont ssee the colors, or smeel the soft sents, or hear the sounds, in which we understand, the beauty of life. A man walking down the raod, searches despritly to find, a solitude fire, of inspiration and need, and a want for life and fear. Nobody sees the sun, or notices the rainbow in the sky, as he watches in remorce, the going draining out, of a once filled world, and no body walks slowly, or looks up to see the pictures, In the clouds. He feels the gaze, And as he looks across the silent street, A pair of violet eyes, meet his, tears roll down the cheaks, of the small girl, and a tiny flame of hope, Is lit in his heart, for the younge world, who has not yet rejected, the meaning of life.