Afterglow

AFTERGLOW

The afterglow
and the sun is nowhere in the sky.
What do I see on the farthest end? and here at my feet
where the light is dragging me with
the sand?
The sand, the land, the nuances,
merge in the tide that once rushed here,
and I stood in stark terror
of standing and waiting for the apocalypse.
Tides are bewitching, they are not content to leave
fractions of moments you can store as epiphanies.
The universe comes on
with a torrential rain;
if you dig your feet in the sand
it's not for the sake of a seaside game;
the tide dares you and you stare back.

Nuances, I hear them when the sea is a sea, not the mighty, outrageous phenomenon;
It's the small hour of the afterglow,
and the only movement seen in the distance
is a child rushing forth trustfully
to meet the ebbing tide.