Horizons: ‘pink, pink, pink, pink moon’ – ndrake

the horizon is a lie
cloaked in contours
and caught between the
alpha and omega,
where the morning’s embers
are fanned into flames
until the evening fades them
into ashes settling,
settling to a rigid ground
whose edges are softened
by their billion little truths
until the horizon brings again
its little lie.
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