Permeating the imaginary borders they were constructing
temples to the external
while the journey was inward
instructing shadows to move, immaterial
without the physical to complete the eternal.
The eye that watches us all is a stranded moon
pale and blood drained
like a weightless stone it remains suspended in water,
it never falters,
the light of its gaze
traces trembling fingers over scaly walls.
Through the darkness
perfect waves peel back broken glass,
lines like china, smooth in its collapse.
The clouds were disrobing crowds of mythical figures,
transforming to animals before our eyes.
The dragon, undeniable in its profile
against the night sky,
with one blink renders an uneven line
below on the lost coast.
Like a spotlight, it captures the waters receding
all the way back to Fastnet Beacon,
imbued with the spirit of lonesome immigrants
who would pass weeping in the smoke of lives left behind.
Shrouds silhouetted to the glow
while waves shaved glimmers to the shore
like a parting sentiment for a land they’ll see no more.
Sparks may loiter by driftwood fire
and pained strings weave fragile scratching
into the backdrop of pounding surf.
To the rocks that receive it for centuries,
the sea is one part dissolution,
one part creativity,
the place where rivers end emphatically
in the brackish beginnings of the next journey.