Gold Clouds, By Nicholas Ingalls

 
A burning night sky, the fiery clouds
Boiling in the air, lighting a dark scene.
Ball of life centered on the horizon.
Piercing white, the source of all the color.
Clouds shaped like dragons igniting the air,
Drifting casually to the east border.
A tail of mixed purple fumes left behind,
Moving toward the black mountains and more.
A palette of blues about to catch fire
As the gloaming slowly proceeds to night.
What lives in the mountains? Coarse rock or fresh
Trees, sleeping giants awaiting the dawn.
At its sloping edges the crisp water
meets soft sand eroding into the depths
of the still, frigid body of water
that covers the bottom of the painting.
The shinning mirror of water reflecting
The ethereal heavens above it.
The mirror catches all and sends it right back.
An endless battle of light and darkness.
At the edge of where the dark meets the light,
An empty, mastless sail boat drifts like the
Clouds above it, resting on the glossy
Surface. The lonely boat, a laborer
Without a captain, floating without a
Clear path or destination to end at.
Destined to float the ocean forever,
The boat searches for a purpose never
Finding one. Destined to drift with the tide
Until it is ended by time and rot.