Ritual Union
The sun splits open, spilling an orange rust,
And it corrodes the distant horizon.
The settling clouds of thick ashen dust
Hover above the motionless ocean.
The warm air rises, blowing time away
With the lingering shadows of the past.
The shoreline crumbles in the gentle sway
Of erosive waves and haze overcast.
Lighting halves the sky. Then, thunder whispers
In a language of long-lost memories.
The glowing embers cool in the vespers,
In the ebbing tide of these reveries,
And light slowly fades into its stream
As if it were nothing more than a dream.
poem by Tim Stensloff
Added by Poetry Lover
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