Tidal

The thick darkness is forced back

By the lights, planted in the ground

Around the structure

It as bright as the moon

On such a night

And in some ways as deceivingly

Unordinary

Inside is not to be found inhabitant

Nor goods, nor furniture

Nor even remnants suggesting

Memory of such

No; all is pristine, 

Unnaturally clean even

It is a place made

For the appearance

Appearance of great potential,

For life

But life itself would be it's ruin

Outside, far outside

Across borders, an ocean

Seven cold forms huddle

Round a small fire

And are rained upon

They shake, only slightly

Having become accustomed to cold

But sway also-

Sway

Back and forth,

Tidal