If the sky is purple than so shall be the sea
A thousand tiny waves kiss the exposed cliff
Rushing to meet the town
Yet a million tiny golden soldiers stand in the way
A cloudless sky a rock less ocean missing its own detail
Wisps of waves reflect deep seashells
A mirror is the watery grave
Exposing any risen hills, any face of the sky and anything below
It stares back with your own face and the face of thousands
Not a mirror
but an empty sheet of what it must become
Today it is purple