Epistle Xxiv - the Twilight

(I) I am the rickety salamina, embarking on a voyage towards the distant isles of apotheosis nestled in the Mediterranean’s indigo expanse (II) From a distance, your gaze, like the falcata’s edge, cuts through the fog of war that blankets the coastline, your third eye peels back the sea of vultures and pinpoints my capsized vessel (III) Your trireme glides through the turquoise entropy, before you heave me from the wreckage of the ocean’s rock-laden floor (IV) You are hope’s insignia inscribed upon my wings’ askew, the hand that galvanized fractured shards of who I was (V) Your body is the chapel that cradles me in silent communion, your compassion pumping life through my heredity’s asphyxiated veins, as time’s currents carry me closer to the twilight