Dayton O'Donnell
Jun 2 · 1 min read

An old street.

New blocks.

A quiet walk.

Loud thoughts.

The bright sunlight.

Shadowy spots.

A charming street it was, with antiquated rocks, torn by war and rebuilt with nothing short of resolve. Strange were my thoughts as they pushed and prodded, moving things around, obscuring a world that seemed so set and settled. All around me, decorating the dilapidated, yet lively ruins, were the coating of the sun’s welcoming light.

At war.

Might be peace.

Cold shadow.

Sign of light.

Quiet dawn.

A stale state.

In a town like this, war is apparent. More so than where I’m from. Could it mean there’s more worth fighting for? Dashed by the trees and silhouetted by buildings, the sun left shadows etched in the rocks. It’s only in a shadow we find light cast upon our thoughts. Where an evenness exists, balanced at the crux, afraid to venture far into night or day. That’s where we’ve stalled, stopped our hearts, and staved our fight.

Thanks for reading,

Dayton O’Donnell

Originally published at on June 2, 2019.

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