Tranquility

 Sunbeam relinquished from the anarchy beneath,the inexorable tide of paradise pulls final radiance of strolling light inhaled from the abysses,the tidal puddles,the reedy-thronged rivulets of humanness.An anchorite wraps the taciturnity of twilight around him,loiters with the stillness of a blue ocean as dusk reminisces the steeds of light to return home from the hamlet in the valley below him. The last of the herd, jolted skyward by the penumbra arising from silent doorways and still hollows, nonchalantly clambers the chasms of the ravine wall,to stand for a bit on the shoulder of the mountain flickering their manes of radiance before ceasing into the flutter of the horizon.Upon the shoulder of the mountain, the muted beholder halts, quiescent as the desolation of the ambit girdered betwixt the canaans aloft and the pandemonium of the suzerainty ruled by the aubade.He waits for the burden of dark piercing with indiscernible gratification that even now it creeps along the boulevards traipsing up the adumbrated alleys asphyxiates the ultimate skirmishes of the hassle of day.The shoulder of the mountain bends underneath the gyre of the Arcadias and irrevocably the serenity of the night realms, and in the adiposity of the crepuscule, in the lonesomeness of the mountain,at last he can auscultate the repercussions of his primogenitors.