A horizon, near-by

Like a thousand poems fusing into one
I see an evening with its paint brush Sun
What feels Oh so near, is only the horizon
The music blends into hapless citylights, and, I'm done.

There will be new stories everywhere, every now and then
But I will be far away, sketching my own silhouette, often
There wouldn't be capsules of speed, or past, or present
Only land, velvet grass, phantom breeze and sugarcane.

A stream near-by, and a cliff for the untamed
A rose pink sky, and an epic doomsday novel
Where humanity fights off the adversary, once again
Where storytellers would survive both Sunrise and Sunset.

If you ever find this place,
You might simply run away
From all this that you hold dear,
For you will find me, that's certain.