The Streets Are a River of Light

I walk where the pavement hums with stories,

each step an echo of those who came before.

The glass towers shimmer like watchful guardians,

yet in their shadows, small wonders bloom—

a child laughing at pigeons,

a painter chasing the color of dusk,

a stranger’s smile that lingers like dawn.

The city breathes in many tongues,

its heartbeat stitched from hurried footsteps,

car horns, and the low murmur of dreams.

But if you listen closely,

beneath the thunder of wheels and neon sighs,

there is music—

the kind that makes you remember

that living is not just surviving,

but reaching for light, even in crowded streets.

Every crosswalk becomes a threshold,

every alley a secret universe.

And as I walk, I carry this truth:

we are all wanderers,

finding beauty in fragments,

finding hope in motion,

becoming alive in the rhythm of the city.