LINDISFARNE
Omega. Alpha.
The end of things.
Quarrelsome achievement
on an island in the sea. Five
terns turning, the broad
sky swooping in dive.
Up above, the stubborn
coastal mews of an odd,
errant day. Hotel Lindisfarne.
On the far line of sea horizon,
out, far off, a low smudge, a
broad tanker, lazes skillfully
on the watery edge of sky,
where all things meet. Where
Alpa and Omega together come.
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