Tinge of Reflection

Lingering in the collision of clouds,
Billowed a ghostly haze on a path that ends
In a marvel of forgotten, archaic structures,
Where nature persists and has begun to reclaim,
In verdant and fragile fingers of yearning,
The crumbling and destitute archetype of yore.
How didst I not know of the burden,
How didst I not feel the frail tension,
Of the gentle nudge to move onward.
I tried to melt into the veil of pandemonium,
Hide from the compression and mirrored fragments.
The need manifested through the pendulous fog,
So full of longing amid the drowning mist,
Infinitely aware of the loneliness near the horde of history.
Along the avenue of cobbled and rough stone,
I closed my eyes to the obscured eventide,
And breathed in the spirits of my humanity.

Credit: NASA/ISS
Credit: NASA/ISS
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