From the high trails of an Island across the bay, a cityscape gleamed and sparkled in the haze of an early morning sun. Silver slithers shimmered from east to west from across the bay. White horses decorated with diamonds speckled the bay and sparkled as they bobbed up and down in their azure blue arena. Occasionally, a flair of color would help the white horses along their way. Thin wisps of early morning fairy-tail mist enveloped a small island castle like fingers hiding a secret. White wispy fingers reached out across the bay and crept under the red span of a bridge whose towers watched over the enchanted city. The city shone and glistened like a jewel in a crown as sunbeams bounced around glass towers piercing the blue. Alas, this enchanting surreal scene exists only in the eyes of a few.
Hidden behind those sparkles are boxes of burnt-out candles entrapped in a cage of age, loneliness and poverty. Their flames long extinguished, the candles remain boxed up and invisible, but other candles burn through the night. Twinkling champagne juxtaposes extinguished flames.
The silver slivers are snakes of black with holes in their back squished by heat and heavy machinery slugging lost candles from hilltops to dark boxes below.
Those beautiful white horses had the wind in their sails whilst lifeless candles hid behind screens unseen by horses, champagne and flames. The unlit candles remain in their dark box waiting, and waiting for a match to strike that will signify their dawn... Locked in their box, not seeing the sunrise or the sunset, they never know when it is day or night.
And so it was; way up high on that lonesome trail where everything seemed so still. The scene was just a screen forming a backdrop for what is rarely seen.