Cities, are not soulless.
Thousands of feet pounding the pavement and a sound in your ears
like the generator in your basement.
The eyes we pass without seeing
and the hands we will never hold.
They see and they cheer, for here at last is a place to blend in
To lose one’s self in the ultimate crowd.
They cannot see the city, and they cannot see us.

A city’s soul is the way we hike up our dresses,
or else slip our thumbs into our belt loops.
A city’s soul is the first person to decide that
right here
right now
was the place to be.
It is the next thousand who agreed
without really knowing why.

A city’s soul is a being,
located not in the square
or the skyline,
but creeping along in the sewers
and getting stuck to the bottom of our shoes.
It crawls inside us and speaks in a voice
A voice so clear and brass that its lies become true
And we believe them.

I am important
I am staying
It will begin
It will end with me.

We feel it strain our hearts and tug our voices.
It’s a silent shout,
An important whisper
That might change the world.
We call it confidence.
It is the confidence of each generation before us,
passed down through bricks and books
and taggers and gum on the sidewalk.

A city’s soul is life itself
Growing like weeds.
Growing within each of us as we anchor ourselves to the earth
in buildings that touch the sky.

We don’t need to look around.
We know where we are,
and what we are doing.
We are London and Tokyo,
Paris and New York.
The lights become us.
We are important.
And we are staying.