Sailor's Warning

I ponder personally the possibility of perspective,
to perspective,
a traveler’s walk would find many a stone to befriend,
and the fog would be most disagreeable:

As birds do perch, the wind scorned my face from the east,
where immaculate tapestries unfurled above their earthy struts.
Music struck not an interrupting cord, contrasting with accordance.
Content with this perch’s position, senses wandered in ecstasy
through this morning’s lot of sirens.

Eyes closed in serene captivation, called by this dusk’s culmination
Awoke and, in the womb of all cycles, beheld the burning of Heaven;
For in that awakening I stood no longer I.
In infinite fingers, fans of roses shed their petals as titian embraced them.
A courtship of fuchsia danced below this coitus of light.
In this blink I was Nature’s.