Bogus to the skedaddled headwinds
Of a bygone summer;
The foregoing beams pardoned
And paused;
Freed by the fluctuating seconds
Of an escaping ruin;
Pulses plowing into fledgling incandescence -
Enlivened by elbowing singers
Of a deft, elite design -
Strumming their band’s
Monstrous ballads;
The tunes outlasting their meaning;
Heightening the majestic cliffs
And the white foam colliding
With the jagged rocks;
A celebration of certainty -
Out-driven by the orange-red-purple glow
Hiding underneath the deepening skies;
And dusk shall bolt in every playing
Toward the starry embers
Of a tranquil and cooler,
Glimmering devolvement of destiny’s
Scaled inclusion…
Only catch the fish
That were caught,
By the somewhat belated whims
Of human extravagance.
Flung into the solvent vessels of positive,
Pleasing positioning.
For fiction is forever the climax
Of honored, prodigious ways.
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