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I see, in carriage side-reflections,
Tangerine iron-strike embers,
Landing their lashes on the horizon,
As we soar into the vast of night,
As if fired from the distant cannon
Of tonight's escaping sun.
Pre-recorded communiques,
Urge the carriage shufflers,
To enjoy the refreshments of the Trolleyman,
And to dial-in a Terrorist
at the most insouciant whisper
Of their kindly suspicion.
I acknowledge this thought for what it is,
A thought. Presenting itself as a cloud.
Billowing in nature and transient in spirit.
I thank the cloud for its interpretation of
Visual events prior to my slipping eyes
As eclipsing moons, eloping.
Focussing now on the breaths,
A falling ravine summoned by nostrils
And stilled by the breadth
And chosen tranquility of the Lagoon,
At whose feet it lands kneeling.
Enraptured by the evocation of calm.
A limestone breakwater surfaces,
Amorously brightening from sunlight,
I tread its shattered path,
I perceive in my periphery,
A galaxy of winking star-births,
Blinking in and out on the water’s silk veil.
The cloudless waves that softly swell and scatter,
Are painted so by my breaths.
I reach my hand for the water’s touch…
When my knee smacks the refreshment trolley,
And my eyes open to its looming inscription:
“Relax and enjoy the journey”.
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