rolling road

through the glass by Alistair Chong

empty bus rides
filled with empty windows
i breath my breath
lightly fogs on the glass
and recedes
like hope of an ending war.
i shut my eyes
to the rhythm of the sway
and turning wheels
i see how whole
this world is
how much she needs to be healed
the hurt, struggle.
called upon by prophets
which crowd the skies