Nicole Wang
On Inauguration Day,
the sky filled space (where existence lies unabashedly present) with blizzarding snow just long enough for the growers to see its relief. The world exhales, throwing away the moldy overfilm, as if to shower down its grievances, making way for sunny, biting, peeled-back renewal, and cautious anticipation. The clouds still remain to remind us all that was left. Built-up and waiting. The universe condenses and waits; everything is consequence, and this snow is the release. I have never before seen such an act of vulnerability. The once-white sky is impulsively removed like a hangnail to reveal the fresh wound of clear day. Naive is a blank word; a mockery of the sweetest part of human nature; even the sky leaves room for hope, despite the callousness of corruption and genteel morality. Today, the Earth responds to the space overtaken in the only way it knows how: unarmored in full radiance and innocence. There is nothing more beautiful. Today will be beautiful.
the len(z) 