A tryst on the boards, or simply blank looks;
water slipping under the bridge –
Don’t think time is like that, too.
Belief still described as a gift, or a talent.
It’s not a skill I practice under duress.
And yet, you see I am awakening – spirit like hooves
clattering across a thousand soundtracks, boundless like all unreality.
Free associations: danger and beauty.
Some are wired away from the place they need to be,
Others wired for solitude, although it’s not what they want.
And, for those beachcombers of dreams –
Well, we walk together on water’s edge,
Swirling out on crests of history
While the tide slips in, out, underneath…