London Poem: Day 89

14 November

Collapsing into itself
In gentle folds,
Beneath a fire washed sky,
The horizon gives in, and disappears.
The dark blends into light,
And light making room for dusk,
The sky tumbles in tumultuous
Suspension casting certain pretenses:
That it all goes on forever.
Sadly, the great sea overhead
Crashes and what rests beyond
Is empty space.
The clash of two worlds coming
And going, folding and unfolding
Conceal our great void
Swimming in blankness.
To carry on –
We must build to find what
Exists beyond sight lines.