The Morning

Dawn and Dusk are the same, like mirrored Geminis,
so it’s the moon glaring back at me tonight.
It keeps the ocean on a leash and reigns it into its
lonely dark side.
There violence creeps down cratered
cracks and rusts against dying dreams.
The waves go back and forth.
There lies tell the truth of misery,
they feed a ghost hungering comfort.
The ghost stares back at me,
and the waves go back and forth.
There memory remains callous, looking
back at the moon’s astronomical origin,
looking back at the meaningless war of
fire and rock, mocking the collided ash
that now masks the victor.
Yet the waves go back and forth.
Here relief guides me. The stars are my canopy.
A hazy sliver of sun kisses the moon’s crescent.
Maybe it reminds me of how little we all know.
How little we all are.
My footprints in the sand are fossils
waiting to be drowned by the wind.
As I look back,
the birds laugh at me, singing at the waves
gone silent.

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