I walk through a place reclaimed.
I am taken in by the sweeping curves of crude oil tanks,
and dilapidated walls of industry before me -
Riveting and soul-swelling as the snowy peaks that rise up behind them.
Graffiti is scrawled on every surface.
There are layers of images,
Paint on top of paint -
Thick extrusions from a concrete surface.
I can imagine the pilgrimage to this place.
A procession of figures,
carrying aluminum cans like sacrifices at the altar.
The crisp clear air filled with the reek of aerosol.
This place has a sense of sacredness, an ache of reverence.
If the human mind was tangible,
A place that could be wandered through,
it would be like this.
Our hopes, concerns, and experiences
imprinted and overlaid on walls that are crumbling down.
The relentless mind-chatter of the quotidian,
scrawled over our greatest insights,
obscuring them from remembrance.
A cartoon bear with his mouth wide open,
exclaiming “Set out and konquer!”