There is the great dying of the
day,
the
falling of the bloated orange sun
into
a sea that is too blue to be real,
the
wafer dipped into the chalice, as it were.
Purple
and violet fire breaks out along the horizon.
The
day is quenched, and the steam
that
rises from the line where water meets sky
becomes
the blackest void, the empty mind of God
until
a thousand million stars appear,
the
brilliant but silent seraphim,
and
it is all made possible because you and I,
holding
hands and nothing more,
are
standing barefoot on the sandy shore,
a
light sea breeze tossing our hair
and
teaching us the new language of love.
~William Hammett
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