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Indigo

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Drips from the water collide onto skulls
Cracking the bone to let the dim light flow;
Releasing the rays to give the eye’s gull
A true show of the new world to bestow.

A world in a water that is opaque
With thick answers that had unasked queries,
Leaves the rusty rustling of gears awake
To the mistake of the naive souls theories.

Still the series of drips turn to strong streams
Which captivate the naive soul in traps
So deep-dark and full of sharks it can’t dream
Of the bright beams which seemed to write the maps.

Perhaps someday soon the moon will bring on
High tides and lift the soul back to the dawn.




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Gooseman said...
today at 8:43 pm:
this is honestly awful
 
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