Tuesday, February 05, 2013

Winter lines

Here we weren't affected 
By the storm 
By the rushing, blind water

Here where the steel rises gray and bleak and insentient -
Our minds are like that sometimes. Able to rise above.
Able to resist the surge

Like emotions, swelling,
changing entire landscapes. 
Altering them

And yet we think to resist. 
We think we can stem the tide. 
Divert the mighty ocean. 

It is the ocean,
I tell you. 
We do not even matter. 
Even after we return to her 
abject or ashes,
even then we do not matter. 

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

you, your words, your work are beautiful.