Mushrooms and Streetlights

Impregnated silence
Gives birth
To the silent sound.
The sun dies
– Shatters; breaks –
And the earth dances
At the sight of its fragments
Swimming through the sea.
Harmony is lost,
But, floating
On top of the waters,
They still burn.

The ripple-less current
Moves, East to West,
Bearing each merchant ship’s
Maiden voyage, through
The beginning of words,
Toward tranquility.
Three sails
spread wide,
As one bow
– Humble beneath the waterline –
Strikes against
A rocky formation
– To instantly,
Mimic the motion,
And nature,
of a match head.
Ignited, at the core,
It jets across
The crestless waves,
Like a signal flare,
Behind the nebulous.

© Jeremiah Dowling  (January 14th, 2008)


About Jeremiah Dowling

I write poetry and take crazy pictures in an Orange Chair all over the United States while reading amazing books.

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