Horizon
O Middle Earth plane,
median of waters meditated,
wrinkles of longitudes anchored,
as waves on the elongated pond.
Tidal, lunar cage, why are you running away,
at night, under the eye of the centenary turtle,
and longs the shell lagoonal,
from the foam, dull blade, scenting the air.
Semaphore, my faith, enlightens man still,
like a drop of gold in my soul darkened,
crimping the obsidian hardened vault.
The horizon will keep me.
