The Tower destroyed, 
ghosts emerge from chamber ruins 
to cradle the surf and caress the bedrock still leaning in 
as though the foundation may be restaged. 
Lightning has ceased, and clouds soon part — 
until a throne reappears to be razed. 

The Tower destroyed, 
the tarot card torn in half: 
over and over, illusions of events 
replay in the sable eyes of wide-awake dreamers. 
The effect has won. The cause is done. 
Daiquiri days collapse into frostbitten nights. 

Honorable mention in this contest: https://allpoetry.com/contest/2830960-National-Poetry-Month-April-13th-noguest