The deep, slow blue of distance.

A slate wiped clean, indigo dust.
This new beginning is not loud, not sharp,
But the stillness after the last wave breaks.

It is where gravity forgets its hold,
And the air becomes only possible light.
A quiet covenant with the horizon.

The sharpest blue is not the sea,
But the edge of dawn, before the heat.
It means the slate is wiped away,
A cold, clean promise for the day.
The start is always this intense,
A brilliant, beautiful consequence.