HARBOR LIGHT

Afterglow in the hall is dim,
darkly thrust
into pale languid echoes
barely evident
through smoky glass cracks,
my hurricane lamp.
Wick sinks deeper into paraffin seas,
sparked with ruddy amber anticipation,
storm clouds restlessly quelled,
to a diminutive sneeze.

Farewell the looming creak of timber sway,
my beacon burns triumphant
past shallow breaks of day,
stacking reformed perspective on wreckage askew,
prayer lights - fearless,
against spectral fleets of lightening
sporadic slivers,
the rumble roll/thunder clasp
a distance now.

That scouring funnel
that tore asunder this room,
has mawkishly retreated
to crack of doom.
Striation tides absconding,
without the glow in the hall,
dim and darkly thrust
into tomorrow’s great works,
sashay swells deposit
their thick barnacle crusts…
coddle the final embers of my flame,
in understanding goodbyes -
for a world,
ne’er to be the same.

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