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:
you, your words, your work are beautiful.
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