Receding Waves - Poetry

The last array,
Of unbroken remnants,
That float upon these waves,
That recede to the past.

The anomaly,
That raced on the yellow fields,
Coming to a still,
A deafening pause.

Follow the path,
Into the dark secret place,
Confronting,
Echoing,
Through the past,
Right at the doorsteps.

A deal to be made,
Not to be forgotten,
Ringing in your ears,
To be excused.

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