Tsunami

Pensive moon, casting its glow on empty shorelines
of bliss, a symphony of silent sand and salty air.
Tsunami of epic proportion threatens boundaries
emotions and impatience, dreaming as if to dare.

To find a way, a moot command, from fading into black
the ghostly pall the moon throws down amid grains and miles.
Morning nears, its repast complete, burns the sky
clocks ticking hours, days, weeks, minutes, seconds, smiles.

They long to be where they were meant;
the silence spoken in lengthy volumes of emotion and light.
The hours can no longer measure by day
and never threatened by the past of what occurred by night.