At dusk

A blaze of glory
fades to the southwest
quietly

the wings of darkness
beat west
draining colour from the sky

the lighthouse winks
taking the place
of the distant hills

as I look southeast
whence I came
some days ago

others were also
coming northwest
but never regained

the shores
of their native island
alive

the faint echoes of their cries
continue to haunt
the houses of this island

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