Near sunrise, midst the cool of pre-dawn hours,
When barefoot on the deck she stands, the sea,
Revealing silhouettes of antique towers,
Enchants her with Atlantean scenery.
Like little reefs, if crafted by mere men,
They crest above the froth at gentler tides,
Those shattered spires, long stranded, here again
Arise a kingdom! And below, there hides
A landscape wasted by apocalypse,
Where coral, round a broad-domed temple, teems
With Neptune’s numerous children; they eclipse
What little lasts of orichalcum dreams.
As Mare Nostrum plunges them in night,
The firmament explodes in golden light.
2 comments:
"You are the devout worshiper of Phobos."
Clearly, I had my reasons.
Thanks, Mike. :) And thanks for following. I'm curious to see how long I can keep this up, but it'll be so much easier with friends keeping me company along the way.
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