Fireworks at Midnight
rating: +7+x

Captaining a ghost ship

at the crossroads in the sea

where the currents turn to fizzy froth

and the waves are speckled with spangled starlight

and the blackened tidewashed curls of seaweed

on the beach are bunched and braided like bridgework steel

and in the sky the alien greens and blues

and scarlets and magentas

of cloudstruck auroras, memories of the sun cast

to circumnavigate the Earth

from our mother of distant fire

her light seven minutes old—

these ancient dewy-eyed auroras

have decided in their heavenly courts to burn

from the clouds upon our peasant waves like ghostfire

so green and bright. And I, a Sunseeker

peering through an amber-tinted spyglass

but finding only the moon, am blinded

by the brilliance of the Stars

and all their glorious unknowns

and in this I abandon my hunt for the imaginary I know

and set my sights on a reality uncertain.

I set my prow to the moon

and turn my sails to the wind, outracing the Sun

to chase the Night and Stars. And with wind in my chest

I find I am not dispassioned by closing doors

for at my back is the Sun I know

and she is not angry — she brings winds to my sails

and pushes, for life is an adventure

and there is so much Night out there

for me to explore.

From bloated satiety
my hunt turns course;
I find myself in the woods
of absolution.

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