Terra Sin Terra

Terra Sin Terra

Four colors,

and deep blue among them,

buried in the sea beneath me,

moonlight shone down on,

waves over denser waters,

cooler strands and,

kelp like a sentinel,

keeping watch for dry,

but dry never comes on pitch darkness,

that leads to daylight,

like a lost child in a mall,

she wanders; gathering bits of fabric,

from the corners of her pocket like mind,

still shines down, screaming through trojan clouds,

sprung upon the indigenous waves and motions,

deepest oceans, their whimsical innocence yet not pondered by inquiring minds,

and yet we cover her in detritus,

play ambiguous or benign in our careless stupor,

lacking sentience… without hope,

praying for days end,

like those chivalrous stallions of yore,

steeds who carried fools into noble jousts,

ask yourself… did they really believe this was the purpose of their existence?

or were they just misfits… miscreants,

lost in the current,

never quite present,

always alone,

and on blustery days… hypothermic,

still life goes on as previously postulated,

and all around him nature seeks retribution,

recompense for stolen hope,

she, that great expanse of saline entrapment,

she that forsook and neglected the expanse of solutions,

prays for numbness,

stays with warm mist,

never goes home.

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