The Darkening Horizon

Like a hand on my

shoulder, the warm

shimmer of late

summer sunlight falls

with red refraction

into the quiet bay.

I wonder tomorrow

what I will recall

of this moment.

Folds in the space

that time has made

crease my brain

as it devours each

dream of memory.

My elements become

the dust that

draws dark valleys

in my history where

plaques entangle all

in their forgetting.

I feel echoes of

these voracious gaps

in the emergent

constant recreation

that is this universe—

birthed from black

holes, then lost falling

into their consuming

event horizon.

A soft Gulf wind salts

the dark absence

I will become with

scents of shadows---

these waves that

name my improbability.

I wonder what hole

will have filled an

unremembered part

of me with darkness.

as walls collapse

at last into an embrace

of silent synapse.

I fall into the dark valley

of each invisible wave.

I cannot/do not resist,

but envelope myself

in plummets of stars

that drift in undulate

weakening shimmers—

their black knowledge

waved shoreward,

filling the emptiness

of my every footprint.


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