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Here you will find the writings of the poet Theodore Waterfield

Chamber of Dawn

Long ago, chasing midnight
on a plane to France,
I saw a sunrise,
such,
as I’d never seen before.
An escarpment of fire
purified by space,
all the rubies of Southeast Asia
laying like a dragon on the horizon,
above the haze
and mirrors of the Atlantic.
I saw the plutonium face
of the sun,
in the chamber of dawn.

I was forlorn and tired,
too pale inside
to stand the light.
I closed my eyes
blotting out images of revelation.
I wanted only peace,
to be home
in the cool darkness of my bed.

Away from the roar of engines,
the sighs of strangers,
coughing,
and rattling of paper,
while the tide pool of a star
washed over its planet.
And a man inside the plane
stared transfixed
at a vast and terrible beauty,
that left him wondering
what part of the sunrise
was he?

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