Paint Strokes across Skies

If you’ve been around the block,

Moving from place to next place:

Wouldn’t you say for every street,

Was something of the same?

There I stood in shock,

in the dark of my dream home.

Seen past the mile-long ravine:

a fire that would catch no smoke.

From the refinery it burns,

Appearing to set the trees ablaze.

Casting doubt on me:

how sanctified was I?

In the home that appeased my fantasy,

where all dark places shall be mine.

The distance my mind then walked:

To the apartment, my first home.

For a view of that sun that lit no flame

to the valley desert terrain -

Yet painted the sky all the same.

Such dazzling displays haunted my dreams:

Fireballs raining down in the night,

though the sun has long set.

Much like how the sky turns now,

From black to purple to red.