I, weary traveler

I traversed the mountains to view the sunset,
500 miles I travelled
and the golden orb lay before me
stripped naked of the pink tinged lace of cloud that covers her,
I, weary traveler of three storms,
She, beloved mother of the world
before me but for a minute,
sweet embrace where land and sky meet,
a moment of extreme bliss
before she slips under the green sheets
of trees and horizon,
darkening the world with her lack of presence
and I, weary traveler,
finding no rest under her beautiful head,
watch her sink,
pull my car back onto the lonely dark highway
to finish my journey underneath the artificial glare of headlights.


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