Somewhere On The Outskirts of Anchorage

I stand upon this tundra,                         
vast across the cold blue
of triumph, a slow liberation
from temptation and bliss.

I imagine it a monastery
where I can retreat into the harsh eyes
of God’ that see
me alone beyond the ocean.

There is no way back
across the mystic,
swimming wildly
at least I found a poem
in a world that dull and barren.


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