I stand on the edge of the sea
The dry basin, with the ghosts of blue waves
Stretching out to the end of time.
The shore there lies stagnant
each grain of sand
a bit lower than the last;
A misguided staircase
That lost its destination.
As the dream shifts
in its daze
It takes on the shape
of an orb.
The endless dry bowl
Unfolds to the Earth’s curve;
a spheroid
a bubble
an apparition of perfection
waiting patiently to burst.
When I awake,
I know there will be a sea
filled with blue, not yet a ghost.
But for the moment
All I can see is an
empty vessel
waiting for
the awakening
of those
who left it so.
The dry basin, with the ghosts of blue waves
Stretching out to the end of time.
The shore there lies stagnant
each grain of sand
a bit lower than the last;
A misguided staircase
That lost its destination.
As the dream shifts
in its daze
It takes on the shape
of an orb.
The endless dry bowl
Unfolds to the Earth’s curve;
a spheroid
a bubble
an apparition of perfection
waiting patiently to burst.
When I awake,
I know there will be a sea
filled with blue, not yet a ghost.
But for the moment
All I can see is an
empty vessel
waiting for
the awakening
of those
who left it so.
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