The Citadel of The East River.

The water pushes against the layers of rock and clay and dirt and dust to make its way to the surface. It shimmies above ground, shy at first, in droplets, threads, springs, and rivers, until it becomes an ocean and conquers the horizon. 

Just as water finds its way to the surface, 

I’ll forever find my way back to you, return to you, to see you, to feast my eyes and to fill my heart, watching you emerge glorious between the skylight and the water of the East River. 

To be happy walking your streets, touching your bridges, and resting in the shade of your blades of grass.

My love for you will never not burn, nor will it ever die. 

My home beyond the Great Water.

The supreme citadel of New York.