an equipoise of the sea and the sky
broiling the horizon like a witch stirs a cauldron of fates
the sun itself lingered as if unsure whether to rise or fall
innominate of stars which rained metioric and made the sky blacker for their efforts
the Dead Sea beckoned cool and red and silent
the Black Sea thundering in its wake
a man held the orange orb in his grasp
for now
Flynnpoetry 