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The Blistering Horizon, Alex Shenstone

Watch, the sun flies across the horizon.

New eyes on old canopies.

There is such privilege to be envied here.

No boundaries in the trees, the flowers, the friends,

Stumbling like new-born sparks in gusts of wind.

But sparks are so small. Easily jolted.

Naïve to the world beyond those canopies.

The roots and the branches can’t stand guard forever.

They get through eventually.

Those shadows with their sharp noises.

Why they want us, I do not know,

But invisible death is aimed between our eyes.

Eyes only knowing home and friends in the undergrowth,

With love unparalleled.

Because we are all threatened the same.

We cower the same. Hide the same.

At the ending of the day, their sparks are bigger.

They land instead of fly.

Lighting up the ground instead of living in the sky.

The golden sun used the shroud the misty air. Glimmering.

Now that shroud is bristling red.

There is no sun to help us see.

No canopies for us to hide in.

We must keep to our own and run.

Run fast. Run hard. As sparks do on the wind.

Running from that red heat on the horizon.


Alex Shenstone is a trans UK university student with an inclination towards darker interpretations, and enjoys spending time contemplating darker perspectives, and reimagining classic stories. He also has poetry appearing in The Global Youth Review, and set to appear with Ghost Orchid Press. He can be found on Twitter at @AlexakaSatan.

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