standing at the eastern ocean
fiction
edward w pritchard
Standing at the eastern ocean
watching reoccurring wave after wave,
I stare intently into the early morning darkness, to the horizon.
Thoughts of foregone friends
spark into purple and red arcs of spectazomons that
distill into just another sunrise, familiar and reassuring.
Using 1000 posts, constructing a pier
I stand on the altar
drenched with fear for humanity small h,
to hope for another day.
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