petrichor perseverance

the s e a remembers the taste of cinnamon sunsets~ the essence of emerald embers and resonances of petrichor when the tides tremble in turquoise delight, amidst the marine snakes slithering through oceanic echoes, mirroring Medusa melodies in envious tones. and as the morning stars nestle in the wildflower warmth of the honeyed sun, wine-red ink flows within midnight vines in vain, aching to be heard, while the jealous jasmines jinx the sanguine spirit of January garnets I wear in grace and gratitude. yet if my sky knows not the colors of darkness, would the moon still be my poetic savior? silently sewing sequins of solace to the fabric of love, floating like cosmic candles, elegantly emanating perfumed perseverance for I am the silhouette of the horizon wrapped in a plethora of p e a c e lilies, sprouting in the glistening garden of gossamer verses, finding roseate reasons to rhyme, when eclipsed is the luna-light and monsoon monsters are the cynical spectators, knocking on my canvas with needles and nails sharpened with paper-thin confetti of resentful remorse. but I ponder, will the blind still feel the storms I breathe and the strength I wear to waltz through wicked weeds, eager to chain unspoken needs? this is me running from the toxic rain, pushing me back into the twilight zone, where I surf through nothingness, engrossed in timeless trust, tied to written tranquility, manifesting magnetic waves of inner truce and magic as the sea remembers the serenade of serenity and the sky knows the metaphors to merge winds of love and waves of kindness.