And before all this, I looked out the window only because I saw a red, glowing rectangle
pasted on my hotel wall. The clue. So I turned.
The red, rising sun peeked
from behind the clouds, then continued its glorious ascent.
All was bathed, even the muddy construction site before me, for Beauty does not ask
who is worthy before she gives.
Large blackbirds lifted from the trees,
flying so casually before luminescence – or perhaps because of it.
Then she slipped back behind the clouds, but their golden threads belied her path.
The second clue.
© Meisaan Chan