City Never Born

Sand that breathes, neon that trembles,
a scent of salt and metal suspended,
the city that is not born holds its breath,
among dreamed doors and invisible windows.
It is a perfume without home or voice,
shining peace upon the streets, rust of moons,
palaces with no name that ignite at night,
whispering to those who listen that all is possible and nothing is given.
When night arrives, the city breathes in silence,
a sail of wind seems to fold into itself,
but the scent remains, an unfulfilled promise,
between sand and neon, a city that never was born.