Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
A lonely thing sits upon the horizon gazing at a blinding, fleeting fire. It wonders, "What?" "What," it questions but never why - fixed on the warm, boundless blaze of distant glamor. Brilliant, searing white turns to dancing reds, coppers, blues and flushed pinks, then blinks. The lonely thing - awestruck - blinks back, and in an eternal instant never sees again. The memory is etched, tender and exact, so that radiant flare may burn eternal in its dim, hushed heart.
0
Mar 20
Mar 20, 2026 at 9:00 PM UTC
Monolith
A lonely thing sits upon the horizon gazing at a blinding, fleeting fire. It wonders, "What?" "What," it questions but never why - fixed on the warm, boundless blaze of distant glamor. Brilliant, searing white turns to dancing reds, coppers, blues and flushed pinks, then blinks. The lonely thing - awestruck - blinks back, and in an eternal instant never sees again. The memory is etched, tender and exact, so that radiant flare may burn eternal in its dim, hushed heart.
For my favourite watchman, whose inner world burns bright.
Written by
Mar 20
Mar 20, 2026 at 9:00 PM UTC
Request permission to use this poem