Night swelling
September 10, 2025
They carry continents under the shoal
There is more depth there!
In the black winds they grow
Until the barrel is unleashed.
In my mind I hope for clarity
But my nerves, as shot to strings
By the music of bygones
Close the gateway into the ocean.
In it rolls, in and further in.
My dreams do they possess.
And I, poor I, can’t hold, but tumble
In their darkest turning codes.
Awake, in light, with quiet birds
I ponder on those nightly guests
Do they clear, and clean the soul . . .
Or are they clamps into the past?