stands up above on the threshold, reaches into its coat pocket digging around, listening to sounds from the silent road below, only the noises of lights turning Red and Green for go. Red means no,
Red means no.
World and Red were friends until Green stopped by and opened World’s mind. Set World on spin to always revolve and back again, never stopping, never knowing what takes place long enough to take it in. Neighbors shining and God burning bright, hot and scalding but never close enough to touch- only feel.
God was yellow and God said Yield.
And World slowed down and drug itself around and saw itself and saw what it had become. God burned World like the sun.
So World came to ends with itself, and edge with itself, and as World dug into itself the lights turned Red and World lit up a cigarette. And God- bright and burning- came down and wrapped his rays around World and World’s sin.